


More than Chance

by CallidoraMedea



Series: Hunger Games Prequel Collection [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 41st Hunger Games, Alliances, Arena (Hunger Games), Banter, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, District 11 (Hunger Games), District 3 (Hunger Games), District 4 (Hunger Games), District 8 (Hunger Games), Hunger Games, Hunger Games Tributes, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Injury, Inspired by The Hunger Games, Mild Language, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV Original Character, Pre-Hunger Games, Prequel, The Capitol (Hunger Games), Tributes, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 95,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27755701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallidoraMedea/pseuds/CallidoraMedea
Summary: Five years after the events ofThe Most Dangerous Game, four new tributes are reaped to play the game. Alongside their mentors, they must put on a show for the Capitol in order to survive.The Pariah seeks to escape the rumors surrounding her; The Fisherman is chosen by his district to play; The Innocent may not have been reaped by mere chance; The Performer is determined to give the Capitol their show.All four are determined to win The Hunger Games.But only one can survive.
Series: Hunger Games Prequel Collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003500
Comments: 31
Kudos: 5





	1. The Pariah

** Astrid Clearwater **

I know I've slept in when Axel starts jumping on me and pulling my hair. "Trixie, Trixie!" he sings, and I moan as I roll over.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Almost ten! Mama wants you up!" Axel says, bouncing off of me onto the floor. He's six, and cute most of the time, but I don't appreciate being jumped on.

"Alright, tell her I'm coming," I say, and my brother runs off to the kitchen.

Not that there's far to go.

My eyes finally get used to the light coming in through the one high, dirty window near the ceiling; unfortunately, my bedroom is not one you would like to look at. The dark blue wallpaper with the faded gold design is peeling away, revealing the water-stained wood behind it. The single shelf on the wall is half broken, and the two books on it are also waterlogged.

It's a room that's seen better days.

As I push the quilt off of me, a fat drop of water lands on my head. I look up to find its source and another drop falls right into my eyes.

"Mama! The ceiling's leaking again!" I shout into the other room. There're only two rooms in this apartment, so I don't even know why I bother shouting.

"Hush it, Astrid. There's other people in this building besides you," Mama says, coming in holding a wooden spoon.

"But the ceiling's leaking again," I say, pointing up and getting rewarded with another water drop on my shoulder.

"Quit making a fuss, Astrid, just pull the bucket over and put it underneath the worst of it. Can't help it, can we? It's pouring outside."

"Oh, Mama! Not on reaping day! It's going to be miserable standing in the rain," I say, grabbing the old metal bucket from behind the door and putting it on my bed.

"I'm afraid so my love. Come eat your breakfast and then we can all straighten ourselves up for today. It's in three hours, you know," Mama says and goes back to the kitchen.

I just sit on the edge of my bed again and dodge the drips coming down steadily into the bucket. As if reaping day wasn't miserable enough. Today two kids from District 3 are going to be taken away, and probably never come back. One won't for sure. I just hope it won't be me.

"Astrid!"

"Coming, Mama!"

While we eat our breakfasts, we sit in silence; the only sounds coming from our spoons clanging against the bottoms of our bowls. The grain I'm eating has cooked down into an ugly brown mush, and it doesn't taste much better than it looks either. It's not my mother's fault, it's the Capitol who provides us with the grain in the first place. Tessera grain is always the worst of the worst, but we can't afford much else. I know Axel hates it, but he doesn't dare refuse to eat it. My family is too hungry to begin with.

"I'll be alright, you know I will," I say, breaking the silence. My mother's mouth is pulled tight; her worried look. She nods, but I know I haven't convinced her of anything. I haven't even convinced myself. I'm scared.

This year I have twenty slips in the reaping bowl, since I've been taking out tesserae for my family since I was twelve. Twenty's nothing compared to some other peoples', I know, but it's still fifteen more than I'd like to have. I'd like to have no slips in the bowl, but I have to get lucky for two more years before that happens.

Too soon, breakfast is done. I help Mama with the bowls, rinsing them carefully and setting them on the counter.

"I'll boil the water," she says, putting the kettle on. "You bring out the washtub, Astrid."

I drag the old wooden washtub that's been patched more than a few times, while Axel stands and watches. "Go put some more wood in the stove," I tell him, and for once he listens to me. Reaping day is more real to him this year, now that he's six. He can finally understand what it's all about.

"Thanks Axel," I say, planting a kiss on the top of his head once he's shut the iron door to the wood stove. He's a good boy, even if he's a pest. "Come on, let's straighten the bedroom up."

To his credit, Axel does actually help me put things away. I leave the bucket where it is, but make the bed around it. Axel rolls up his bedroll and puts it at the end of the bed that Mama and I share. The bedroom is dark and tiny, but it's home. It's the only home we've ever had.

Once the washtub is full, I get to go first, since I'm the one eligible for reaping. Washing my hair is such a luxury, and I relish it. I so seldom get the bath first; Axel usually has it because he's the youngest. But today it's all _mine._

Getting out is another matter, though; the rain has cooled the July heat and it's freezing in the apartment, even with the wood stove burning. If it wasn't reaping day, the stove wouldn't be on at all; Axel and I would be at school and Mama would be at work. Reaping day is a sort of holiday for everyone in District 3.

After I've dried off somewhat in front of the stove, I let Axel and Mama have their turn while I get dressed in the bedroom. Today is a day for wearing my best clothes; a blue dress that doesn't really fit me anymore, especially in the hem and sleeves, black knee-high socks that Mama made herself, the clunky black shoes I wear to school, and my threadbare old navy jacket. The only thing good I have to say about the jacket is that it goes well with my hair.

I brush my hair in the reflection of the broken mirror by the door, and tie it back with a scrap of ribbon I found one day. There. I look presentable. I can only see bits and pieces of myself, but what I do see looks alright.

Mama and Axel are dressed when I come out into the kitchen; my brother's dark hair is neatly combed to one side, and my mother's hair is loose around her shoulders, still very wet.

"Here, Mama. Let me braid your hair," I say, sitting my mother down in a kitchen chair and swiftly plaiting the long dark hair into one thick braid.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she says, kissing my forehead. I'm about the same height as her this year, and it feels odd to be able to look her in the eyes. She smiles a little, then the grim line is back. "We should go. Don't want to be late."

It's a miserable walk to the city square, surrounded by dilapidated buildings like the one we live in. Some are barely standing upright, instead leaning to the side like they're drunk. All around us other families are walking the same way as us, most staring straight ahead, others scolding their frightened and tantruming children. Occasionally someone looks at me and hurries on ahead.

Almost everyone in District 3 has the same dark hair and brown eyes, like my mother and brother have. Then there's me, with my red hair and green eyes which belong to another district altogether, though I couldn't tell you which one. I stand out in a crowd, and I look like I don't belong here.

I've heard the rumors, whispers in the schoolyard or in the square, about how my father was supposedly a Peacekeeper who fell in love with my mother, and then was sent away before I was born. I don't know how much truth there is in that story, but I know my father is not the same as Axel's; he died two years ago after drinking too much and being hit by a train. Good riddance, if you ask me.

Everyone's soaked by the time we reach the square; I haven't seen it rain this hard in months. Isn't July supposed to be sunny and hot?

The square gives me a thrill of terror every time I come here on reaping day; the plain Justice Building has a makeshift stage built right outside, and banners with the Capitol seal hang from the surrounding buildings. There's a long line of kids waiting to sign in, and Peacekeepers guarding the Justice Building and the area around it. Don't want anyone to take off if their name is called, do we now?

"I'm going to get in line; I'll see you after," I say, kissing my mother on the cheek. She pulls her mouth out of its tight line long enough to smile at me.

"You be safe now, Astrid. Good luck," she says, patting my dripping wet hair.

It doesn't take long for me to get to the front of the line; I sign my name and let the Peacekeeper sitting at the table prick my finger. That's the part I hate the most about signing in. Once they've released me, I'm herded to the group of other sixteen-year olds, most of whom have deer in the headlights looks on their faces. I know them all from school, but can't call any one of them friend.

Nobody wants to be the friend of a girl whose father may have been a Peacekeeper.

The rain refuses to let up, and we all really can't get more wet than we already are. District 3 is a big district, and so it takes a long time to herd all the eligible boys and girls into the square. Families have to stand way back, watching on the giant screens above the Justice Building. As the last stragglers come in to the slaughtering pen with the rest of us, the mayor comes out on stage, under an awning so that he at least won't get wet.

"Welcome, District 3, to the reapings of the 41st Hunger Games. As every year, the beginning of the Hunger Games is a time to reflect, repent, and give thanks to the Capitol who gives us so much."

I resist the urge to laugh at that last bit; the Capitol gives us nothing. All it does is take and take and take, and never gives anything in return but grain and our tributes in pine boxes. District 3 generally does not fare well in the Games, with only a few exceptions.

"The Hunger Games are a gift from the Capitol; a chance to show our strengths and overcome our weaknesses, represented by the best of our youth," the mayor drones on, then announces our past victors, sitting quietly side by side on the stage. We have exactly one still alive, and he won in the past decade. I don't listen to the name of the dead victor, but I do pay attention to the live one.

"Beetee Latier, victor of the 35th Hunger Games," the mayor says, and Beetee rises, giving a good-natured wave. He's young, and extremely quiet. I see him around the district sometimes, working on something. He's regarded as a sort of technical genius, and that is exactly how he won his Games.

The mayor stops his lecture there, stepping aside for two Peacekeepers holding the two reaping bowls. They place them on the wooden stands by the microphone, then go back to their stations, standing still as statues.

District 3's escort, Delia Charm, with her bright blue wig that looks like a cloud sat on her head and ghostly white skin fairly skips out on stage, a cheery smile on her face. I wonder, if she got her wig wet, would it melt? She looks terrifying compared to the rest of us, standing sullenly waiting to hear who the unlucky sods are this year. What is it with the Capitol and their idiotic fashions and accents?

"Happy Hunger Games, District 3!" she calls, taking her place at the microphone. "May the odds be ever in your favor! Now, I know you all must be very excited to hear who the lucky tributes are this year!"

Nobody says anything. Like Districts 10, 11, and 12, being chosen as a tribute here is practically a death sentence. If you're not a genius like Beetee, you're not going to make it back here alive. I don't particularly like anyone I'm standing with right now, and they don't really like me either, but I feel a solidarity sweeping through the crowd. Despite our differences and all, we're all united in our hate for the Capitol.

Delia smiles despite the distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Let's get started, shall we?" she says, that overly cheerful smile never dropping from her face. I notice her shoes for the first time and wonder how she can walk in heels that are that high. "Ladies first!"

She proves she can walk in heels that high as she clips over to the girl's bowl, rifling around with a white gloved hand. There's a collective intake and holding of breath; every girl is praying it's not her, me included. Please don't let it be me.

Delia walks back to the microphone, opening the slim white piece of paper and takes a second to read the name herself.

"Astrid Clearwater!"

Everyone around me turns to look at me; I can see relief in their eyes that it was me who was picked, not them. I feel like I've been bludgeoned over the head with something heavy. Me? It's me?

Slowly I start walking up to the stage, where the mayor and Delia are waiting for me. The crowd is dead silent as I go through, stepping back to clear a path. I can hear every footstep I take as I make my way to the crowd, climb the nine wooden steps, and join Delia at the microphone.

"How old are you, dearie?" she asks; she's even scarier up close. I can see she's got blue jewels inlaid in the skin around her eyes; how does that not hurt?

"Sixteen," I say. To my credit, my voice doesn't shake when I hear it over the speakers. What is Mama thinking? And Axel? I'm dead, there's not much hope for me now. I'm a walking corpse.

"And do we have any volunteers for Astrid?" Delia asks, looking expectantly at the crowd. As I expected, they're all quiet. Nobody is going to volunteer for me, Astrid Clearwater, with the dubious background. I look over my district for what will probably be the last time; seeing them still in the pouring rain makes me appreciate this nice canopy above my head.

"No? Astrid, you can step back," Delia says, and I move back a few steps. "And now for the boys!"

Delia rummages around in the boys' bowl, which is overflowing with white slips. As she does so, I clear my throat quietly, trying to dislodge the tears that are threatening to come out on stage. I can't cry, not in front of everyone. I have to be strong for my family, and so the others don't pick me off right away.

Heels thudding against the wood of the stage, Delia makes her way back to the microphone, opening the white piece of paper that will doom someone in the crowd.

"Circuit Wallcry!"

It's easy to find the boy in the crowd, because his peers pull away from him like mine did for me. I groan inwardly; he obviously has no chance, and that becomes even more apparent when he climbs the stairs and stands next to me, anxiously blinking his eyes behind his water streaked glasses. He's thin as a rail, with black hair and grey eyes that are also common here in 3. He's a stereotypical useless tribute from 3.

"How old are you?" Delia asks him.

Circuit blinks twice more and says, "Seventeen." I would not have placed him as seventeen; he looks more along the lines of fourteen.

There are no volunteers for him either.

Delia makes us shake hands, as though we're going to be allies. Not likely; if I'm going to have any chance at winning, I can't have Sir Helpless here tagging along behind me. The crowd gives us piecemeal applause, and then the statue Peacekeepers come alive to herd us inside the Justice Building.

The room I'm put in is luxurious, with electric lights everywhere, and a thick blue carpet beneath my feet. I try to pull myself together before my family arrives, but I'm fighting back tears already. Today, the odds were not in my favor.

Before long, the door bursts open, and a sopping wet Mama and Axel come in, both of them crying. That doesn't help my cause, and I start crying as well. All three of us huddle together on the soft couch, hugging one another tightly.

"I'll try to win, Mama. I promise," I say, crying so hard I'm hiccupping.

"You're not going to try, Astrid, you are going to win," Mama says, and she sounds fierce, fiercer than I've ever heard her be before. "I want to see you back here in a few weeks with a crown on your head, do you understand me?" I nod, and she wipes my face with her hands.

"Where are you going, Trixie?" Axel asks, tears pouring down his face. "Why are you going away?"

How can I tell him I'm going to die? "I'm going to the Capitol, and you'll be able to see me on the television," I say, trying to stop crying for my brother's sake. "And I'll be back in a few weeks to tell you all about the Capitol, and how it looks. I'll bet it's prettier in real life than on television."

"Can I come?"

"No, it has to be just me. I need you to look after Mama while I'm gone, okay? You can look after each other until I come home." I'll come home one way or another, with a crown on my head or in a pine box. Who knows which?

"I want you to know I'm so proud of you, daughter," Mama says, looking at me like she wants to memorize my face before I go. This could be the last time I ever see my mother; I start to sob again, reaching out for her.

"You're my brave girl, you'll do fine. Make me proud; make the district proud. We're due for another victor, Astrid. I love you so much, so much more than you'll ever know." I'm still hugging my mother and brother tightly when the Peacekeeper opens the door.

"Time's up."

Then it's desperate goodbyes and last kisses and hugs before my family is escorted out the door and I'm left in this elaborate room alone. The only sounds come from a ticking clock and my hiccupping.

Like I expected, nobody else comes.

Once the hour is up, I'm led out of the Justice Building, into a waiting car. I try to dry my eyes on the way to the train station, but I know my eyes are red and everyone will know I've been crying. I don't care.

The cameras push into my face as soon as I get out of the car; I ignore both them and my district partner who's blinking up a storm. Delia and the Peacekeepers herd us tributes onto the train, followed closely by Beetee, who hasn't said a word yet.

I'm waiting by the window when the train starts, and I watch the last of District 3 fade and then finally disappear into the distance.

I'm truly alone.


	2. The Fisherman

** Shore Seawind **

The boat rocks under my feet, in a rhythm that's so familiar to me that I barely notice it anymore. Way off in the distance I can see the hazy edge of the district, but we're so far out it'll take an hour to get back at least. All around us is blue-green water. Out here is where I feel the most alive.

"Help me with this, son," Da says, getting the fishing net ready to put out behind the boat. The _Jewel_ is older than me, and probably older than my Da, but she's still the most beautiful fishing boat in the harbor. I swear Da looks after her better than he does his own children.

"You thinking about today?" he asks, looking at me in that way he has, like he can read my mind. My Da has been one of my best friends ever since I was small; I spend most of my time out here with him. I've learned more on the Jewel than I ever could in school. Every so often he makes me go, to pick up more of the reading and writing that he doesn't have, but most of the time I'm out here with him, pulling up the fish the Capitol demands. Every morning we get up before the sun, and every night we return home after the sun has set. Except for Sundays.

Sundays are for Thalassa.

"I suppose I am," I say, hoisting one end of the net. Together we throw it out behind the boat; it falls in a neat circle on the water.

"You'll be fine, you'll see," Da says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "You'll make District 4 proud."

"I'm worried how Thalassa will take it," I admit.

"She'll be fine too, and so will the girls. You're ready for this, a year early too. We all put it to a vote, and even I voted to have you volunteer, Shore. You're the best the district has to offer."

I crack a small smile. "Won't Ma get hysteric when I go?"

"You know your mother is as tough as nails. She won't cry where she can upset the girls, don't you worry. And soon enough you'll be back home and moving into Victor's Village with Thalassa. She'll say yes when you come home, you'll see," Da says.

"You don't think she'd say yes any other way?" I ask, only partly in jest.

"I think she'd say yes no matter what, but being a victor only helps your case," Da says. "Let's get the net pulled in, shall we?"

As the sun shines overhead, reflecting off the water as we go, the _Jewel_ sails back into port, back into District 4. The docks are swarming with people, mostly fishermen like my Da and me. I recognize some my age from the few schooling lessons I've had, others are men and women I've worked alongside for years.

"Ready for today, tribute?" Hake says, coming up to help pull the load of fish off the _Jewel._ I've known Hake since we were kids, and he's pretty much my best friend.

"You bet. Just you wait until I'm back lording my victory over you," I say.

"You're going to be so annoying."

"I'll have earned it." Hake and I grin at each other good naturedly as we unload the fish onto the dock. The older fishermen come and start to process them as soon as they're off the boat. Some fish go to the canning factory, but a lot goes straight to the train depot.

"Good luck today, Shore," Kai calls, waving a wrinkled hand. He's one of the oldest and most experienced fishermen on the dock. His daughter, Cressida, is friends with my Ma, and I know his granddaughter, Current, as well. Kai and my family go way back.

"Thank you, Kai!" I call back.

"Let's finish this up here," Da says, coming up behind Hake and me. "Reaping time is at eleven, you know."

"I know," I say, but I hurry up anyways. I don't want to be late, not today.

'Many hands make light work,' is what my Ma always says, and she's never wrong. Within an hour, an army of fishermen, including me and Hake, process the fish and get it to the depot where the train will take it all the way to the Capitol. The day's done early today, since it's Reaping day.

"See you later," Hake calls, waving to me.

"See you!"

Da and I start our walk home, which doesn't take very long since we live close to the harbor. It makes me happy every time I see the two-story rectangular house where I live. My family has the bottom level, the Burnsides have the top, all nine of them. They seem to have a new baby every year, and it never stops crying.

Da painted the house bright blue last year, with paint he bartered for in the Cove. It stands out amongst the other houses with the weather-beaten boards, and I'm proud whenever I see it. Most of the houses have windows around here, but my Ma keeps ours clean and shiny no matter what time of year it is, unlike the others which are streaked and grimy.

"They're home!" I can hear Maris shouting inside, and then the door bursts open; all four of my little sisters come running out and attack Da and me with giant hugs.

"You're worse than a squid!" I say, properly picking up Isla, who's the youngest at only four. She giggles.

"You smell salty, Shore!" she says, and laughs again. That's one thing about Isla; she's never sad.

"Like fish!" nine-year-old Lark says, making Isla laugh again.

"There's a reason for that, my loves," Da says, taking six-year-old Maris in one hand and Lark in the other, marching towards the house where my Ma is waiting, drying a dish in the doorway. I put Isla down and follow after them, eleven-year-old Pearl tagging behind.

"You two go wash up; the girls are all ready to go whenever you are," Ma says, giving Da a kiss as he walks in the door. She looks proud but sad when she looks at me.

"You're going to do just fine today, my boy," she says, ruffling my hair. "Girls, let your brother get ready to go. It's his big day, you know."

After I've scrubbed the salt from my skin and smoothed my hair back as much as I can, I come back to the kitchen in my best shirt and pants that Ma wove for me. Pearl's sat her down in a kitchen chair and is brushing Ma's hair out. It feels strange being home during the day; I usually get home after dark with Da.

Maris comes and wraps her arms around my leg. She's tiny for her age, since she was born too early. You'd never know it by all the mischief she gets into, though. I pick her up and swing her around the room until she squeals with joy.

"Shore, put your sister down so she can act like a lady," Ma says, but she doesn't sound too stern about it.

"I'm not a lady, I'm a kraken!" Maris says, and she squeezes my head.

"You're rumpling me!" I say, setting her down and chasing her around the room.

"Mind the stove!" Ma says, but she's laughing too.

Someone knocks on the door then, and Lark's head whips towards the sound. "Somebody's here!" she shouts, running to open the door.

"Stop shouting!" Pearl says, putting a pin into Ma's dark hair.

Lark opens the door, and it's Thalassa who's standing there in a sea-green dress, which matches her eyes exactly. I can't help but smile when I see her, and she smiles back at me. I think she is the most beautiful girl in all of Panem.

"My Mum sent this over to you, Mrs. Seawind," she says, coming in. Thalassa knows she never needs an invitation to come into our house. She's practically family at this point, and once I ask her to marry me, and if she says yes, then she'll really be family.

She's the one I love most in the whole world, and she knows it.

"Thank you, dear," Ma says, taking the loaf of bread from Thalassa and giving her a kiss on the cheek at the same time. I know that Ma likes Thalassa a lot, and Thalassa likes Ma in return.

"Are you two going to walk to the reaping together?" Da asks, coming out from the washroom while rubbing a towel over his beard.

"If you all don't mind," I say, trying to smooth my hair back.

"You two run along now; we'll see you in the square," Ma says. Thalassa and I say our goodbyes, and then we leave, walking along the cobblestoned streets that lead to the city square.

"So you're really going," Thalassa says quietly as we walk along, hand in hand.

"I suppose I am."

"I wish you weren't."

"I'll be back before you realize I'm gone; don't you worry." I stop Thalassa and we stand, looking at each other; her eyes are full of tears. I push a red lock of hair behind her ear and run my hand over her cheek.

"I'll miss you," she says.

"I'll think about you every moment, and I'll dedicate my whole interview to you too. You'll see; everything will come out alright," I say, and I mean it. They wouldn't have voted me as volunteer if I wasn't capable of winning.

"You'd better win," Thalassa says, pushing me playfully. "I don't want to see you back here without a victor's title, do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear." People are starting to filter past us now, in good spirits since none of their children are being sent to the Capitol. The voting is a relief to most people; there's no surprise in it when the tributes are chosen beforehand. This year it's going to be me and Aria Combstar going to the Capitol. She's tall and capable too; a good candidate for the girl tribute.

"Don't want to be late," Thalassa says, pulling me by the hand towards the square. "I can't wait to see you on that stage."

"I thought you didn't want me to leave!" I say, following after her.

"I don't! But if you have to, then I know you're going to win, because that's what you do," she says.

"That's me, the best you'll ever get," I tease. Thalassa stops running, kissing me instead.

"You're so full of yourself," she says.

"I love you, you know," I tell her; she smiles that beautiful smile that lights her whole face up and makes her eyes crinkle around the edges.

"I know," she says, pulling me by the hand again.

"You know?"

Thalassa laughs again. "I love you too, idiot."

Thalassa and I grew up together, playing on our fathers' boats as kids. I really fell for her when I was fourteen, but it was a few years before she fell for me back. Now she's my best friend, my confidant, and my favorite person in the whole world. I really don't know what I'd do without her. She's funny, smart, and just the best person I've ever met. And she knows it.

In the square, the Peacekeepers are lining everyone up, shoving kids left, right, and center to organize the ages in different groups. Girls stand on one side, boys on the other, each in our respective age groups. As much as I'd like to stand with Thalassa, I know it's not allowed.

"See you in the Justice Building," I say, kissing her again.

"Good luck up there," she says, and then she's gone, signing in at a different table. I write down my name for the unfriendly Peacekeeper sitting in front of me, and then he pricks my finger.

"That way," he says, pointing to a row of boys my age. I nod and walk off, dodging the shoving Peacekeeper as I do so. The Peacekeepers here are cruel, but not as much as other districts I don't think. Mostly we get left alone as long as we turn in our daily quota of seafood. They're not still not liked, though. Nobody is fond of the Capitol, like they are in Districts 1 and 2.

I find Hake and stand next to him; we don't talk but we give each other a nod. Looking around, I catch a glimpse of my family walking to the square, the girls looking more solemn than I've ever seen them before. Pearl doesn't have to worry about her name being called until next year, and even then she doesn't need to worry about going to the Capitol. There's always a volunteer waiting in the wings.

Slowly, the square fills up with this year's eligible tributes. The younger kids stand nearer to the stage, while the older ones like me stand towards the back of the group. Nobody is smiling, because this is generally a serious occasion.

How am I feeling right now? I try to piece it together. I'm nervous and excited all at the same time; this is what I've been waiting for since the end of the Games last year, when the votes were cast choosing me. I'm determined to give District 4 a victor for the second year in a row; Riptide Morain won last year in a well-deserved victory.

The last few stragglers file in, a couple of twelve-year-olds from the look of them. I manage to catch Thalassa's eye from across the square, and she smiles and nods at me. I can do this, I can do this!

Mayor Cowal Molony comes out on stage, flanked by Peacekeepers and followed by our district escort, Kitty Prior. I'm horrified at Kitty's appearance this year; she looks like she's been dipped in red paint, and she has new white tattoos on her face that give her a startling and terrifying look. She looked a lot more normal last year, I'll tell you.

Mayor Molony, a short, stout looking man, steps up to the microphone and clears his throat, sending echoes all around the square. The Peacekeepers on either side of him have backed away to guard the door to the Justice Building, the tall wooden hall with flaking white paint. Like many of the houses in District 4, the Justice Building has looked better.

"I would like to wish you all a Happy Hunger Games," the mayor starts out in that voice of his that sounds like he's rolling pebbles around his mouth. Thalassa and I like to imitate him when we're out on the docks alone; it sends us into hysterics every time. Mayor Molony reads out the Treaty of Treason like he does every year, and I don't pay attention, like I do every year. I start to listen when he introduces our past victors.

"Mags Flanagan, victor of the 11th Hunger Games," he says, gesturing to the woman with grey streaked red hair and a sharp nose that everyone in District 4 knows. She stands up, gives a wave, and sits back down.

"Glass O'Hare, victor of the 26th Hunger Games." Glass, a woman in her thirties with dark hair, waves but doesn't get up.

"Riptide Morain, victor of the 40th Hunger Games." Riptide, a boy two years older than myself with an unsure smile, bows briefly, then sits back down.

"Now I would like to introduce our District escort, Kitty Prior," the mayor says, gesturing Kitty forward. She walks up to the microphone in all her brick red glory, and beams down on us.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she says. I can see her teeth from here, and they're way too white to be real. "I'm sure you're all eager to get going, so let's start! As always, we'll start with the girls."

Kitty goes over to the reaping bowls provided, full to the top of white slips of paper. Each one has a name written on it. Six in the boys' bowl are mine. She digs around in the girls' bowl for a few seconds, then whips a slip out, holding it up in the air for all to see. It doesn't really matter who's on it; Aria Combstar will be volunteering for whoever it is anyway.

Kitty's back at the microphone, opening the slip and reading the name. "Kelpie Agan!"

Kelpie, a girl with reddish hair, walks slowly up to the stage from the fifteen-year-old section. The crowd is hushed, watching her climb the stairs and take her place next to Kitty.

"Do we have a volunteer for Kelpie?" Kitty asks, looking down at the girls' section. This is when Aria is supposed to volunteer. But she doesn't. Kelpie is looking around in confusion, looking for Aria. But Aria doesn't say anything.

"Well, let's have a hand for our girl tribute, Kelpie Agan!" Kitty says. Kelpie is obviously trying not to cry, and I'm really annoyed with Aria. I'll bet nobody else will be very fond of the girl after today, her being voted to volunteer and all.

"And now the boys!" This is it; this is when it's my turn to volunteer, and I won't mess it up like Aria did. Kitty pulls out a slip from the boys' bowl and walks back to the microphone with it. This is it.

"Ewen Darkcloud!" The boy walks through the crowd from the thirteen-year-old section, clearly nervous that I won't volunteer. Nobody under the age of fifteen has ever won the Games, so he's right to be nervous. Even so, he takes his place next to Kitty and clasps his hands behind his back.

"Do we have a volunteer for Ewen?" Kitty asks. I surge forward, raising my hand in the air.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

"We have a volunteer!" Kitty says delightedly. "Come on up to the stage, young man."

Hake slaps my shoulder one last time, and then I'm making my way up to the stage as Ewen is walking down the steps. He shoots me a grateful look as I walk up the stairs past him, onto the stage, going toward Kitty and Kelpie Agan, who still looks shell-shocked.

"What's your name?" Kitty asks, pointing to the microphone.

"Shore Seawind," I say.

"And how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Excellent!" Kitty says, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. "You two shake hands."

Kelpie and I grip each others' hands and look at one another warily. I get a good look at my ally and opponent; she's thin, but she's strong, like most of the tributes from District 4. Pretty, but not my type. Thalassa is my only type.

"District 4, I give you your tributes for the 41st Hunger Games! Kelpie Agan and Shore Seawind!"

We're escorted into the Justice Building by the Peacekeepers who were waiting on either side of the doors; Kelpie is taken one way, and I'm taken another, into a nicely decorated room. This is where I'll say my last goodbyes to my family and friends.

Ma, Pearl, and Maris come first. Maris climbs into my lap and says nothing, choosing to suck her thumb instead; a habit she never quite lost. Ma wraps me up in one of her hugs, squeezing me so tightly I lose the ability to breathe temporarily. Pearl simply holds my hand.

"You're my boy, my best boy," Ma says, smoothing my hair,

"I'm your only boy, and it's a losing battle, Ma," I say, pointing to my hair. "It's never going to lay straight, no matter what you do to it."

She laughs a little. "I'll be watching you every night, and I'll be praying for you too. They wouldn't have voted you in if you weren't capable of winning, so I expect you to be the victor. You hear me?"

"I'll win, don't you worry, Ma. I'll be back before you know it."

"That's my boy," she says, kissing me on the forehead. Then the time is up; Maris and Pearl both kiss my cheeks before giving me little waves on their way out. I'll see them soon, there's no need to worry, so why is my throat getting choked up?

Da comes next with Lark and Isla. He's beaming from ear to ear as he looks at me, his arms crossed.

"You're going to do so well, Shore. It'll be hard without you on the boat, but I'll manage. You've been such a help all these years, and I want you to know that I'm proud of you," he says.

"Thanks, Da."

"So, why do you have to go again?" Isla asks, her green eyes wide.

"I'm going to go win the Hunger Games. You know how on Parcel day the district gets all sorts of nice things?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm going to go win, like Riptide did, so we can keep having candy for another year!"

"Well you better win," Lark says.

"What, don't you have any faith in me?" I ask, pretending to be hurt.

"Your brother will be the best in there, don't you worry, girls," Da says.

"Time's up," the Peacekeeper says, opening the door. The girls pile on me, giving me one last hug before they run out the door. Da gives me a bear hug.

"I'll see you on the other side, son," he says, and then he's gone.

Thalassa comes in right after Da leaves. She's trying to hold it together, but she starts crying as soon as she sees me and flies into my arms.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," I say, trying to reassure her.

"I know you will, but I'm nervous anyway," she says.

"Here, I'll give you something that might help your nerves," I say, leading her over to the couch. From my pocket I pull out the ring I've been carving out of driftwood I found on the beach. It's smooth, with a pattern of waves etched into it. Thalassa's eyes grow wide.

"Thalassa Harren, when I return as victor, will you marry me?"

She cries even more, then nods. "Of course I will."

I slip the ring on her finger, then kiss her. "I love you so much," I say.

"I love you too. Be safe, alright. Promise you'll come home?"

"I promise. Don't you worry."

"I won't then. You always keep your promises, I know you," Thalassa says, wiping her eyes. "Here, take this as your token." She unclasps and hands me the necklace she always wears; a shell hanging on a chain. I take it and put it around my own neck.

"You look fetching," she says.

"As always."

"You're full of yourself."

"And still you love me," I say. Then the Peacekeeper is back, and it's time for Thalassa to go. I walk my fiancée (my _fiancée_!) to the door, kissing her one last time.

"I'll see you in a few weeks," I tell her.

"You better keep your promise," she says, quickly kissing me again, and then she's gone and the door is closed.

Hake comes last, clapping me on the shoulder.

"You're off then," he says. He doesn't seem too worried about me.

"I'm off," I agree.

"Did you-" he asks, then grins when I nod.

"And?"

"She said yes."

"You did it! You did it!" Hake says, shaking me.

"I did it! She said yes!"

"When you get back here, you're going to be a married man, and I can't hang out with you anymore. You'll be too old for me," he says.

"We're still seventeen you moron," I tell him.

"You know who's a moron? Aria Combstar. On the way over here I heard her mum talking; Aria just didn't want to volunteer. Didn't want to go through with it. She was voted in and everything. Kelpie's mum is upset; I saw her going in to see Kelpie while I was waiting for you."

"She'll be facing some hell," I say, and Hake nods.

"She'll be written off by quite a few Agans, I'll tell you that."

The door opens and the Peacekeeper sticks his head in. "Right, I'm going," Hake says, jumping up. "I'll see you in a few, Shore."

He gives me a one-armed hug, a thumbs up, and then my best friend is gone too.

At the station, we're greeted by cameras and the other victors. Mags gives us a warm smile, but Glass and Riptide don't really acknowledge us yet. I smile my way into the train, while Kelpie next to me looks shaken and teary.

A few minutes later, we're on board the train, and we're leaving District 4 and everything I've ever known behind us.


	3. The Innocent

** Terra Coppersmith **

_My fingers can't hold me much longer; the wind is too strong and threatening to pull me away from the rock face. I can feel the warm blood snaking down my arms from my hands that are cut and ragged from the rocks._

_"Fletcher! Help me!" I scream, but I can't see him through the storm. My face is so cold, so cold it hurts. I can't feel my feet or my hands anymore, but the blood doesn't stop. "Fletcher!"_

_"Terra!" There, I heard him! I can just catch a glimpse of him through the storm. "Win for me!"_

_"Fletcher! Help me!"_

_"I love you!" Before I can reply, the giant bear mutt rears up behind him, tearing his head off before disintegrating. The cannon fires and I scream; I'm falling backwards and Calypso's above me with her knife and ruined face, and she strikes down…_

I sit up, screaming. It quickly becomes apparent that I'm not in the storm, and there is no mutt, no Calypso, and no Fletcher.

Fletcher is dead, and so is Calypso.

I run my hands through my hair and start to go through my mental list that helps ground me. _I am Terra Coppersmith. I am twenty-one years old. I won the 36th Hunger Games five years ago. I lost two fingers, and both my legs after winning. I'm okay now. I fell in love with Fletcher Wellrock, but he died for me in the arena and is buried in the District 8 graveyard. I'm okay; I am safe._

Iry bursts in the door, wearing her new white nightgown, and climbs onto the bed with me. "Bad dream again?" she asks, wrapping me up in a hug. It used to be me who took care of my little sister, but now she's thirteen it seems to be the other way around.

"Yeah," I say. "Fletcher as usual."

"It's okay, Terra. You're safe," she says soothingly. I haven't had a nightmare in two nights, but I know what's brought tonight's on. It's Reaping day today.

"I know I'm safe, I'm with you," I say, leaning into my little sister. She's grown up so much over the years, it's hard to believe. When I came back from the Capitol, she was just a little girl. Now she's almost as tall as me, with a sense of humor that's all her own. She has two names in the bowl today; the odds of her being picked are slim, but they're still there.

"Want me to make some tea? Shuttle said she'd be over this morning to help us get ready. She knows how you are on Reaping day," Iry says, not taking her arms from around me.

"Sure, that would be nice."

"Are you going to go visit Fletcher before we go to the square? I know you like to go talk to him before anything big happens."

I shake my head. "I'll let him sleep in this year," I say.

"Alright, I'll go put the kettle on," Iry says, sliding off the bed and going out the door. Our house here in Victor's Village is huge; I still miss our old home on Engineering Road, where I grew up, and where I used to live before I became victor.

It's just Iry and me here, since my father and mother are both dead and buried in the cemetery a few rows over from Fletcher. Shuttle and Woven, my old mentors, have taken the place of our family. And I'm an honorary auntie to my best friend Deecey's four-month-old baby, Eli. She got married last year to a really nice guy, and I was more than happy to fund the wedding. I have more money than I know what to do with.

After a few minutes, Iry brings a cup of tea up to my room and hands it to me.

"Thanks," I say, blowing the steam away and taking a sip. "What are you going to wear today?"

"The blue plaid skirt with the white blouse," Iry says, wrapping a braid around and around her finger. "I think that will look nice."

"I think so too," I say, taking another sip.

Our cat, Ribbons, jumps up onto the bed then, rubbing her face against my cup and nearly spilling the liquid inside on me.

"Ribbons!" Iry says, grabbing the cat away from me and squeezing her tight.

Distantly, I can hear a knocking coming from downstairs. Iry's face lights up; "That's probably Shuttle," she says, taking off out of my room and down the stairs, still holding the cat. Shuttle's become a sort of aunt to Iry over the past five years, along with Woven. They kept me alive in the arena, and now they're family. I don't know the third District 8 victor very well, a man in his forties named Woof. He keeps to himself.

"Terra! Are you getting up today?" Shuttle calls from downstairs.

"Coming!" I wrap a shawl around me before going downstairs. Even in the heat of July, I hate to be cold.

Shuttle's slicing bread in the kitchen when I get down there, while Iry sits on the table swinging her legs. The bread is still warm, judging by the steam rising from its insides.

"I brought breakfast," Shuttle says, smiling at me. "How'd you sleep?"

"The usual," I say, grabbing a slice of bread before Shuttle can toast it. I'm still getting used to the gadgets provided by the Capitol; before we got the toaster, we used to put the bread over a fire and toast it the old-fashioned way. Here in Victor's Village, we're spoiled.

"Well, reaping's at noon, and the mayor wants us to be early this year. No repeats of last year," Shuttle says. Last year Woof barely made it in time to sit on the stage, which did not sit well with the officials.

"Who's the escort? Please Shuttle, please tell me it's not-"

"It's Postumius," Shuttle sighs. I groan and rub my forehead. He's been District 8's escort for the last seven years, and he gets more useless every year, I swear. Typically dressed in orange suits with a champagne glass in his hand, he's almost worse than no escort. You can't expect him to get the tributes anywhere on time.

In the five years since I won, District 8 has sent ten tributes to the Capitol. None of them have come back alive. Shuttle, Woven, and Woof say very little about their failures; so far, I've been spared the life of a mentor, thanks to Shuttle and Woven's influence, but I know the Capitol will call me one of these days and demand I come to the Games as well. I just have to postpone that as long as possible.

"You'd think we'd be able to be rid of him," I say, leaning against the counter.

"Nobody else wants him. He's stuck in District 8, and we're stuck with him," Shuttle says sadly. We've wanted Postumius fired for years, but our wishes have never come true.

The toaster pops; Shuttle hands me a piece of toast with jam on a plate and the other to Iry. "Eat up," she says, "It's going to be a long day."

After breakfast, Iry and I go upstairs to shower and change, while Shuttle goes home to do the same. I can't help but think of the two poor kids who are doomed to head to the Capitol this year, whoever they're going to be.

I've dressed myself in black pants and a light purple top today, and I think I look very nice. I usually wear long pants, to hide the prosthetics I gained in the Games. They don't bother me as much as they used to, but I don't like to display them.

Iry jumps down the stairs in her white blouse and plaid skirt. "How do I look?" she asks, spinning in a circle.

"Beautiful!" I tell her. "What shoes are you going to wear?"

"The black ones with blue flowers on them," Iry says, running back upstairs to get them. That's one thing about winning the Games that I've always felt happy about: being able to give my sister everything she needs or wants. It almost makes up for the nightmares that come every night.

"Ready?" I ask once she's downstairs again with her shoes on. She nods. "We'll go by Deecey's; you can walk to the square with her. I need to go up with the other victors."

"Terra?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll be alright today, won't I?" She says it nonchalantly, but I know she's scared.

"You'll be fine," I say to her, grabbing her hand. "You only have two names in the bowl, and you don't have any tesserae. There's a lot of other kids who have more at twelve."

"Sure about it?"

"Positive. Come on, we have to get going."

People are already starting to move towards the square, most towing children behind them. There's a sort of solemnity that makes it feel like we're all going to a funeral; in a sense, that's not wrong. Deecey lives about a ten minute walk away, with her husband and baby Eli. Iry's been walking to the square with them for years, ever since I was eligible to be reaped, but back then she would walk with Mrs. Underfall, Deecey's mother. She is like my own mother to me, and she lives nearby Engineering Road, where Iry and I used to live.

Deecey's looking through the window already, smiling and waving to us on the street. The door opens and she calls, "Ready for drop-off?"

"Like every year! Where's the baby?" I ask. Alex, her husband, comes up to the door holding baby Eli, who crows and babbles when he sees me.

"I swear you only come to see him," Deecey says, but she's smiling.

"I tolerate you for him," I tease, tickling Eli's feet and making him laugh. "I'd love to stay and play, but I've got to get to the square early. You're alright taking Iry?"

"'Course. Just like every year," Deecey says, giving me a hug. Alex gives me a friendly smile, then takes Eli back inside the house.

"Alright, I'll see you after the reapings. Stay safe," I tell Iry, kiss her forehead, then walk with the other people headed to the square.

I go straight up to the stage that's been erected in front of the Justice Building, passing by the Peacekeepers that guard the doors. They don't bother to check for identification anymore; they know me well enough after five years. One nods his head to me.

"Ms. Coppersmith."

"Terrence," I say back, nodding to him as well. He's an alright Peacekeeper; I talk to him every year.

I take my seat on the stage, next to Woof who's already here. Better than last year, when he was almost late. Woof doesn't smile when he sees me, but he nods. District 8's only male victor, he's usually polite, but quiet. I don't know much about him, really. The first time I met him was before my Victory Tour, and he showed me his own missing finger. That's as far as our bonding ever went.

Woven, a woman in her forties with short dark hair, arrives then, coming to sit next to me. "Long time no see," she says.

"Yes, last night was so long ago," I say back; Shuttle had us over to her house last night for supper. Woof declined to come, of course.

"Iry with Deecey?"

I nod. Shuttle comes up the stairs then, more serious than she was earlier this morning. She's only six years older than I am, and has a great deal more responsibility. Odds are, she and Woven will mentor the girl chosen and Woof will mentor the boy this year. I get to stay home and watch as much as I can stomach on our private television.

"Ready?" I whisper. "The orange menace will be appearing soon." Shuttle cracks a smile, then goes serious again. I turn my attention to the crowds of kids pouring into the square, and the Peacekeepers who push them into age groups.

The younger kids usually stand near the stage, because they're typically shorter, while the eighteen-year olds stand at the back of the crowd. The families stand on the outside and try to fight down their terror. I can see Iry amongst the other thirteen year olds; she gives me a little wave.

"Welcome, District 8, to the 41st Hunger Games," the mayor says coming out. She's dressed neatly but not extravagantly, unlike anyone in the Capitol. I genuinely like our mayor, because I know how much she hates reading the Treaty of Treason every year, like she is right now. Once she finishes that, she introduces the district's past victors: us.

"Woven Stonewood, victor of the 14th Hunger Games; Woof Fuller, victor of the 17th Hunger Games; Shuttle Caries, victor of the 31st Hunger Games, and Terra Coppersmith, victor of the 36th Hunger Games."

The audience applauds for us, and we victors acknowledge them with nods and smiles. Four tributes have come back in a forty-one-year period; it's just sad.

"Let me introduce to you your Capitol escort: Postumius Opiter," the mayor continues, backing away from the microphone.

There was a time when I though Postumius was amusing, but that time has long gone. As the idiot bounces out on stage, I notice that his hair has grown longer, and it does nothing for him. He's wearing orange as usual, with purple stripes incorporated into the suit's design. Absolutely hideous.

"Hello District 8!" he says, and he actually sounds fairly sober. He was close to being flat out drunk last year, so it's an improvement on his part. "Let's get the ball rolling, shall we? Shall we start with the ladies or the gentlemen this year do you think?"

_Just shut up and get on with it already._

"Ladies first!" he finally decides, walking over to the reaping bowl with a bit of pep in his step. I hate him so, so much.

Postumius pulls out a slip of paper that condemns someone in the crowd, then walks back to the microphone, whips it open, and says, "Iry Coppersmith!"

Woven grabs my arm because I'm about to fall off my chair. No. NO! Not Iry, not Iry! Every bit of breath has been knocked out of me, and I'm fighting against Woven to get to my little sister. Woof grabs my arm on the other side and forces me back down.

"Don't make it worse, Terra," he growls at me. I'm speechless as Iry walks up the stairs to the stage; her hands are shaking when she stands next to Postumius, but she holds it together.

"Do we have a volunteer for Iry?" Postumius calls out. I beg the crowd in my mind, _somebody, please, volunteer for her! Volunteer!_

But just like nobody volunteered for me, nobody volunteers for Iry. She steps back like she's supposed to, and it takes everything I have to not run up to her and grab her in a hug. My sister, my little sister!

No!

I almost miss who her district partner is, only getting a good look at him when he comes up and stands next to Postumius. A sullen giant of a boy, Azlon Loombow is eighteen and may actually have a fighting chance this year. But Iry has to win, she has to!

I grip Woven's arm in my hand and hiss into her ear, "I'm going to be mentor this year, and nothing you can do or say is going to stop me."

** Iry Coppersmith **

Terra promised me I wouldn't be the tribute, but here I am standing on the stage, trying to hold back tears. Azlon, the boy who was just chosen to be my partner, refuses to look at me, or at the crowd. He looks at his feet instead.

"Let's hear it for this year's tributes, Iry Coppersmith and Azlon Loombow!" Postumius Opiter shouts, making Azlon and me shake hands. Azlon still doesn't look at me.

As we're being taken into the Justice Building, I see Terra, looking as terrified as I'm feeling right now, and she's trying to get to me.

"Iry!" she shrieks, but the other victors are holding her back. I don't even get to scream for her before I'm hustled inside and taken to a pretty and luxurious room.

I bury my face in my hands, trying to ward off the tears. What about my room at home, with the canopy and the soft rug by my bed? What about Ribbons? Who's going to take care of her when I don't come back? I'm only thirteen; nobody has won that young, ever. Where's Terra?

The door opens and I look up; it's not Terra, it's Deecey Underfall-Arches, Terra's best friend. I've known her for years; she's basically family.

"Come here," she says, and I run into her arms before the door even closes behind her.

"Where's Terra?" I whisper.

"I don't think victors are allowed in here. I'm pretty sure she got taken to the train station," Deecey says.

"The train station? But she doesn't go to the Capitol," I say, confused.

"I guess she is this year. Listen, you'll be fine. You've got a team of four victors behind you, and all of District 8 will be cheering you on. They'll get you out of that arena without a scratch, you just watch."

"I'm scared, Deecey."

"I know. I know," she says, rocking me back and forth. "Terra came home, and so will you. You just gotta hide, hide like Terra did, and then you'll get out okay."

"Terra lost her legs," I whisper.

"They won't throw you into a tundra, I guarantee it. The last one was only five years ago; they won't repeat themselves so soon."

Deecey lets me go and takes my face in my hands. "Listen, I expect you to be back here all in one piece in a few weeks. Enjoy the Capitol; you've always wanted to see it, haven't you? Now you can, and Terra will be with you too."

I nod.

"You're smart and funny and brave, and you'll make all those idiots in the Capitol love you, and then they'll sponsor you so you'll keep alive. You'll be just fine."

The Peacekeeper opens the door and says, "Time's up."

Deecey gives me a last hug and says, "I'll go take care of Ribbons for you while you're gone. She'll miss you, but I'm sure she'll like Eli for a little while. Stay safe, I love you."

The door shuts behind Deecey, then opens again almost immediately. It's Alex, Deecey's husband, and he's holding baby Eli. I smile and reach out for him. Alex places Eli in my arms, then leads me over to the couch. I don't know Alex as well as Deecey, but I like him a lot anyway.

Eli giggles and coos up at me; he's a really wiggly baby. I think of him sometimes as my baby brother. Squeezing him tight, I hold him close and rock Eli back and forth.

"You're a good kid, you know that Iry?" Alex says.

"Thanks." Eli snuggles up right under my chin.

"And I'm real sorry this happened to you. You'll do fine, don't you worry," Alex continues.

"Thanks. And thanks for bringing Eli," I whisper. Too soon, the Peacekeeper opens the door, and Eli and Alex have to leave.

"Good luck, kiddo," Alex says, and then the door shuts behind him too.

Aja and Carding come in next, together. My two best friends from school. Aja is crying, and Carding is barely holding it together.

"What am I going to do without you?" Aja sobs, hugging me tight. She lets go and Carding hugs me next.

"I'm going to really try to win," I tell them. "Really, really try. But if I don't come back, can you come visit me? Please?"

That sets Carding off sobbing. "I don't want you to die!"

"Me either," I say, and it's getting harder to breathe with my throat closing up. I swallow the tears back. "I'll be back, don't worry. Terra's coming to the Capitol with me."

"Time's up!"

"But they just got here!" I protest, but the Peacekeeper doesn't care.

"Let's go!"

Aja, Carding, and I group hug one last time. "I'll be back! Don't worry too much about me!" I say, and then they're gone.

Mrs. Underfall, Deecey's mother, comes last. She's tall and plump, and warm, and she's like a mother to me too. She doesn't say much; she rocks me back and forth instead.

"I've loved watching you grow up," she finally says. "You've been a joy no matter what age you are. I'm going to miss you lots."

"I'll come back," I whisper, but every time I say it, I grow more doubtful. Can I come back?

"I know you will dear. I know you will."

Then she's gone as well.

The ride to the train station is a quiet one. Postumius sits in between Azlon and me, and generally looks cheerful. I don't smile and neither does Azlon. When we pull up to the train station, there's cameras everywhere. I smile then, and wave to them. It's not really in my nature to sulk for too long.

As soon as I get onto the train, Terra grabs me and holds me tight. She's crying, and that sets me off crying too.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. It was chance," I say. Terra shakes her head.

"It was more than chance, it had to be. Relatives of victors get reaped too often for it to always be chance. They want a show, and they rigged the reapings to get it, I just know they have," she whispers.

"They can do that?"

"Iry, they can do anything they want to." Terra looks me dead in the eyes, and the sadness I see in them makes me hurt. "Don't say anything about it; the walls have ears."

I nod.

The train takes off while Terra and I stand at the windows. "You'll see it again, I promise," Terra says quietly. "I promise."

"Okay."


	4. The Performer

** Eleanor Slatefield **

"Nell, would you get down from there? I am not having you break your neck on reaping day!"

I roll my eyes, one hand gripping the branch I'm sitting on, the other holding a branch above me. "I'm not going to break my neck! I've never fallen out of a tree yet!"

"And yet you tripped over your own feet yesterday. Get down here; you're not to be climbing today anyways. Don't you know it's a holiday?"

I know it's a holiday, that's why I'm climbing around. I rarely get any time to myself, and I have to take what I can get, if you know what I mean. For once I'm not up in the orchards picking fruit. I don't really mind doing that either, actually, come to think of it. That's what I want to say, but I don't.

"Yes, Auntie," I say instead, and climb down out of the oak tree behind our house.

"There now, both feet on the ground. Go wash up; we'll be leaving within the hour," Auntie says, going back inside the house. I follow her into the squat little place where I've grown up.

Rosa's sitting by the fire cooking something in a pot; Uncle is trimming his beard in the mirror by the only window. The whole place is tiny and dark, and I try to spend as much time out of it as I can. Like every other house in the Roots, the place is made of poorly put together lumber that the Capitol slapped up over fifty years ago, and somehow made it through the Dark Days. Not that I've ever been in one, but I've heard tell that the houses in the Branches have wood floors. Down here, we just have dirt under the table and the beds.

"Getting into trouble again, Nell?" Rosa asks, looking up from the fire. Her face is bright red as far as I can see, and it's no wonder. It's blistering hot outside. July and August are always the hottest months. Reaping weather my mamma always called it, but she's been dead and buried for eleven years of my fifteen. Papa died a few months after I was born, so after Mamma died, I went to her sister Ruth, and here I am.

"Not as much as I could have," I say cheerfully, splashing water on my face from the washing bowl. "Who do you think is going to be District 11's lucky winners today?"

"I don't even want to think about it!" Rosa says, stirring the pot. She's a year older than me, sixteen, and she's got twenty-nine names in the bowl this year. A Peacekeeper came by last week saying that they were going with the last names from M-Z this year, after doing A-L last year. That way the Capitol people can get only those kids into the square; there're too many kids in 11 to have them all in the square. So it evens it up.

Unfortunately, Rosa is a Tallmen, and I'm a Slatefield, so we're both going to the square at one o'clock. I have five less chances than Rosa, but twenty-five slips is still a lot. We need the tesserae, though, so I'll have even more next year. The tesserae slips are cumulative, you know.

"And brush your hair, Nell," Auntie says. "I'm not having you show up to the square like a draggletail."

"But I am a draggletail, Auntie," I say, hugging her from behind. She gives me a swat and I laugh, going over to try to tame my black curls that never do what I want them to. Rosa's the lucky one; her hair is always tamed no matter what she does. Perfect Rosa.

Uncle finishes with his beard and starts to dry his face with the one towel we own. Uncle is not a man of many words, but he's kind and a good worker. He's never been punished by the Peacekeepers, unlike Cull Sparrow two doors down; he's never picked as much as he should in the orchards, and just last week he was whipped in the town square for being a layabout. After that, he was put in the stocks, and his pale face turned red in the July sun, I'll tell you that. Uncle's never had that happen, in his whole life.

I don't own another dress, just like most of us in the Roots, but once I get my hair back into a messy braid and center my locket, I look just fine. Rosa's got the nicer dress, of course, 'cause she doesn't climb around like I do. She likes sitting inside better and doing the cooking. Me, I like climbing the trees in the orchards and bringing the fruit down.

I touch the silver locket at my throat, the only thing of value I really own. Nothing else I have is worth anything, but I treasure this locket almost more than my own life. You see, when I open it, it's got a picture of my mamma on one side, and my papa on the other. It's better than gold for me. Mamma was from the Branches before she got married to my papa, and the locket was a wedding gift from him to her. After she died, it came to me.

"So, what're you making, Rosa?" I ask, turning to my cousin who's still sitting by the pot on the hearth.

"Stew," she says shortly. It's before noon, and she's never at her best in the morning. Me, I'm an all-day kind of person. I get up with the dawn and go to bed when the sun does. It's the best way to live.

"That'll be good for after the reaping," I say, going over to take a look in the pot. Not as many potatoes as I'd like, but you make do with what you have. And we don't really have a lot to start with.

"Nell, will you bring that sack of flour over here?" Auntie says. "I'm going to start a loaf of bread now so we can have fresh bread tonight with the stew."

I pick up the burlap sack that sits by the hearth and start to drag it over to the kitchen table when Rosa screams, jumping up.

"What?" I say.

"Mouse!" she shrieks, backing up against the wall.

"Stop that! You're scaring him," I say, dropping the sack and crouching down to mouse level. I've always liked mice, even when nobody else does.

"Kill the filthy creature," Auntie says, pushing a damp strand of hair out of her eyes.

"No," I reply, holding out my hand to the little thing which is frozen in fear. Little creatures like me too; I've always thought of it as my sort of talent. Like magic, the mouse scampers into my palm; I pick him up and take him outside, letting the mouse go in a patch of daisies.

"There you go, mister," I say, watching the mouse go, then go back in the house.

"I don't know what gets into you, picking the nasty things up," Rosa says, having regained her spot by the hearth.

"I don't know how you can bear to sit by the fire on a day like this," I say, dragging the flour over to my auntie.

"It's better than almost breaking my neck up in some tree," Rosa says, her temper flaring. Doesn't take much to get her going.

"I'll have you know that I've never broken my neck," I say, holding the bag open while Auntie scoops flour into the wooden bowl Uncle carved for her. Most of the things we own we've made. Like the beds; the big bed is fitted into the right-hand corner of the room, if you're looking at it from the kitchen table. Underneath it is the trundle bed, which is technically supposed to be for little kids, but Rosa and I share it anyway.

She never shares the blankets.

"Almost, Nell. I said almost," Rosa says.

"Both of you, quit your arguing," Auntie says. "Rosa, you can get lunch; Nell, you can get quiet."

Rosa shoots me a smug look as she pulls out the fixings for our lunch. When Auntie's back is turned, I stick my tongue out at my cousin.

"Fifteen going on three," Rosa hisses at me under her breath.

"Groosling," I hiss back, then carry the sack of flour back to its place by the hearth.

While the dough rises, we eat a quick lunch of roots and berries I scavenged yesterday. Nobody in 11 gets fed enough, so we do what we have to do to get food. While we eat, I regale my family with a story about a flock of birds that almost hit me while roosting in a tree I was sitting in earlier this morning. Rosa rolls her eyes.

"If you wouldn't go so high, Nell, you wouldn't run into these things."

"But that's what makes life exciting!"

"We do not need more excitement," Rosa says stoutly. It's my turn to roll my eyes.

"Girl, hush. Nell, control your tongue, you talk more than any other girl I've ever met," Auntie says. "Finish your food; we have to leave in a few minutes."

Almost on cue, the Peacekeepers march by just then, hammering on the outside walls of the surrounding houses. Nobody has their doors shut in this weather, so knocking on doors doesn't work. Thus, the outside walls. Auntie and Uncle jump up just as the Peacekeepers reach our house.

"Reaping day, let's go!" the Peacekeeper shouts at us, brandishing his gun.

"Coming!" I mutter under my breath; Rosa glares at me. She never says a word when the Peacekeepers are around. They're scary, of course, but she's too cautious about life. She'd have a lot more fun if she'd climb more trees.

On the way out the door, I say, "What if we were the Apples or the Cories or something? They wouldn't be able to make us go, since it's a M to Z year. We could just tell them off, do you think?"

"Shush, Eleanor!" Auntie says, shocked. "One of these days, your mouth is going to be the ruin of you."

I shrug, then turn a cartwheel in the middle of the street. My dress goes over my head, then back down as I land right side up. The dirt road feels smooth under my bare feet. Like a lot of us down in the Roots, my family doesn't own shoes. And why would I want them? Feet are meant to be free is what I say.

Auntie chooses to ignore me this time, but I see a twinkle of laughter in my uncle's eyes. He's always liked me best, I think; he just doesn't come out and say it. Rosa wouldn't like it at all if I was declared the favorite.

I think I am, nevertheless.

Closer to town, or the Trunk as most of us in 11 call it, the crowds become denser. You see, District 11 is like a tree; the bottom where I live is the Roots, the town is the Trunk, the richer areas are the Branches, the orchards and other food production areas are the Leaves, and the Victor's Village is the Fruit. I've never seen the Fruit myself; if you're from the Roots you tend to stay in the Roots.

I wave to a few girls I know from the Roots, Blue and Angelica. Angelica comes running over to me, saying, "Good luck today, Nell!"

"You too!" I say. She grins at me, with her gap-toothed smile; she lost a tooth last year after hitting her mouth on a low branch while running through the orchards. I teased her for weeks before the joke got old.

"See you after!" she says, then runs back to her family.

"You two go ahead and sign in," Auntie says, pointing to the lineup. "You two be good."

"You don't have to worry about me, Mamma," Rosa says, like the insufferable good girl she is.

"And Eleanor," Auntie says, pointing at me. "There will be no mischief like last year, do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Auntie," I say, then run off to the lineup to wait my turn to sign in. Last year I caused a little bit of a commotion while waiting in my age group, when I did a handstand and accidentally kicked Raven Billowside in the head. She still hasn't talked to me.

I'm behind a boy from the Branches all the way along, up to the sign in desks. When it's my turn, the woman Peacekeeper seizes my hand and stabs a needle in my finger.

"Ow!" I say, and she glares at me, forcing my finger onto a sheet of paper; the fingerprint I leave behind is bloody.

"Write your name," she says, handing me a pen and the sign in sheet. In wobbly letters I write _Eleanor Slatefield_. In fact, it's the only thing I know how to write. It's only the kids from the Branches who typically go to school beyond learning to read and write their name.

"Fifteen-year-old section, straight ahead. Next!" the Peacekeeper shouts, and another one, a man this time, pulls me roughly towards my age group.

"I can walk!" I tell him, and he shoves me into the crowd. I nearly fall into some Branches girls, who laugh at me and my homemade dress. Their dresses come from the shops around here; their papas and mammas are probably merchants or run the production factories. Usually, the hard labor belongs to the Roots, but during harvest season everyone gets marched to the fields and orchards and put to work. It always gives me such satisfaction to see the town girls up a ladder.

Blue and Angelica have ended up a few girls away from me; they wave, then turn their attention to what's happening on the stage. District 11's mayor, Grove Clearie, has come out onstage, accompanied by two Peacekeepers holding the reaping bowls. Seeing all those white pieces of paper temporarily dulls my cheeriness, knowing that twenty-five of them are mine.

Mayor Clearie looks through his notes for a little bit, waiting for all the kids to get into the square. I can't see Rosa anywhere; she's behind me somewhere, but there's too many people to see her. This is why they divide up the names every year; District 11 is one of the biggest districts in Panem.

My eyes wander to the high fences surrounding the district; the thirty-foot-tall steel and concrete wall, topped with razor wire. Nobody gets into District 11, and nobody gets out without Capitol permission. Like every year at the reapings, I get the humor knocked out of me by the realization that I'm trapped. There's nothing funny about the hundreds of Peacekeepers who line the walls either, or about the ones guarding the entrance to the Justice Building.

I know why they're there; a story goes that years ago a tribute tried to make a run for it after they were reaped, and instead they got shot. Another piece of paper had to be drawn, and it was a mess. Now the tributes are secured immediately.

Everyone must be here, because the mayor has stepped up to the microphone. "Today begins the year of the 41st Hunger Games. Today is a time to remember the days we must never repeat, and to think on how we can better help the Capitol and Panem shine."

I stop listening when the mayor starts talking about the Dark Days, and how the districts rose up against the Capitol. District 13 got obliterated, and the rest of us got the Hunger Games.

Lucky us.

"In District 11's history, two tributes were the strongest of their years and returned home as heroes," the mayor continues. "The victor of the 33rd Hunger Games, Seeder Howell." Seeder, a pretty young woman with short hair and olive toned skin acknowledges the crowd with a smile.

"And Harvest Maycorn, victor of the 39th Hunger Games." Harvest, a dark-skinned young man with twitching hands, nods to us all.

"Now, our Capitol representative, Taizy Diamond," the mayor finishes, stepping away from the podium. The same woman as every year, Taizy comes out in high heels and her trademark purple spiked hair. This year she's included whiskers that jut out of her cheeks; it's horrible! I don't understand the Capitol at all. Nobody in the Roots would ever dream of doing that.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she trills at us in that awful accent of hers. "I'll bet you're all looking forward to finding out who your lucky winners are!"

I almost call out to her, "We sure are!" but Auntie would throw a fit. I promised to be good today, and I will, mostly.

"As per tradition, we'll start with the girls!" Taizy continues, strolling over to the reaping bowl. Twenty-five slips are mine, twenty-nine are Rosa's. That's a lot of odds that can go wrong.

Taizy's pulled a slip out and is happily walking back to the podium. I cross my fingers and hold my breath as she opens it, smiles, and reads out the name written inside.

"Eleanor Slatefield!"

Well I'll be darned. It's me.

The girls around me, Branches and Roots alike, pull away like I have the measles. What am I supposed to do again? Oh, right, I have to head up to the stage.

The journey there takes forever. The whole square is so quiet I can hear every footstep I take, even though I'm barefoot; the wood stairs make a squeaky sound as I take them one at a time, then go over to where Taizy is standing with a Peacekeeper, waiting to take me into custody.

"Hello, hello!" Taizy says, even more awful up close. I catch Seeder looking at me carefully; I'm her newest recruit after all.

What on earth is my family going to say?

"Do we have a volunteer for Miss Eleanor?" Taizy asks the crowd. As I expected, silence. So I do what I do best: break the silence.

"It's Nell, actually," I say, leaning into the microphone. "And let me tell you, District 11, you've been a fabulous audience today!"

The Peacekeeper seizes my arm and starts to pull me back towards the doors; I get out a last call, "See you in a few weeks!"

I don't fight the Peacekeeper, just let him take me over to the doors. He can't do anything to me; I'm the tribute. "I'm not going to run," I tell him. He ignores me. I decide to throw being good straight out the window.

"You're a nice strong man, ain't you?" I say, grinning up at him. He stares straight ahead, not paying attention to me. "Why would I run when I've got you here to protect me? You can let me go, I'm not going to run, I swear. Promise."

"Shut it," he growls. There is nothing more satisfying like getting to a Peacekeeper, I tell you. Just being able to talk back to one puts me in a cheery mood.

Meanwhile, up at the front, Taizy is digging around in the boys' bowl. I'm curious to see who's going to be my district partner going into this. Should I be more upset about being reaped? I guess it's just my way to make the best of whatever is thrown at me. Heck, and I'll get to see the Capitol too, which is a bonus.

"Eisle Lornsee!"

The boy called Eisle doesn't even get to move before a tall and rather wiry boy yells out, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Now the crowd is murmuring; between me and this new boy, District 11 hasn't gotten such an interesting reaping in years. As the new boy comes up to the stage, I get a good look at him. He's taller than me for sure, with darker skin than mine, and really short black hair. As far as I can see, he's not scared at all.

"What's your name, love?" Taizy asks.

"Lotem Raanan," he replies. His voice is deeper than what I would have thought it would be for some reason.

"And how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Alright, so he's a year older than me. We can work with that; we can work with that for sure. The Peacekeeper holding my arm drags me up toward Lotem so I can shake the boy's hand.

Maizy calls out, "District 11, your tributes! Eleanor Slatefield and Lotem Raanan!"

"It's Nell Slatefield!" I yell, then I'm being pulled backwards through the opening doors of the Justice Building; my Peacekeeper opens a different door once we're inside and shoves me in.

"See you soon!" I tell him cheerfully as the doors shuts with a bang.

The whole thing suddenly becomes real: I'm going to be a tribute in the Hunger Games. This is worst case scenario, right here, right now. Too bad for the other twenty-three; I'm the one who's coming out alive.

But, right now, I'm standing in a gorgeous room, with white and gold wallpaper, bookshelves full of colorful books; paintings on the walls. Under my bare feet the carpet is soft and plush on top of wood floors. This must be what all the houses in the Branches look like.

The door opens and Auntie with Rosa bursts in. Rosa is sobbing her eyes out, and Auntie just looks furious.

"Come here, girl," she says, and I go to hug her. Auntie is bony, yet soft at the same time; I used to love hugging her when I was little. I outgrew it in the past few years, but it's so nice to hug her now.

"I can't believe they picked you!" Rosa says, almost hysterical.

"Calm down, Rosa! It's me, not you!" I say.

"That's worse! Now I have to watch you on the screens in town!" she sobs, sitting down on the couch.

"Pull yourself together," Auntie commands, and when she tells you to do something, you do it. "Nell, I don't know what sort of display that was on the stage back there, but-" She pauses there.

"But what?"

"Keep it up." I pull away from her, and she's smiling at me. "They're going to want a show, aren't they? There's no other girl I know who's half as prepared to give a show as you are. Be my Nell Slatefield, and make them love you. They'll fall over themselves sponsoring you, and then you can get home."

"I'll do it, you'll see," I say. I let go of Auntie completely to go sit by Rosa, who's still crying softly. "Rosa, I'll be fine. I've been in worse messes than this, haven't I? I'm going to go get fat in the Capitol, and you won't recognize me when I get back here."

"I don't want you to die," Rosa sobs.

"Quit grumbling, groosling," I tease her. She looks up and glares at me.

"Shut up," she mutters.

"That's enough, you two. Behave; I want to remember you as being better than this," Auntie says.

"I've got my token," I say, holding up my necklace. "Watch for it in the arena."

"Time's up!" a Peacekeeper barks, opening the door. Rosa throws her arms around me.

"See you in a few weeks," I say, and she nods. My cousin flees out the door without another word. Auntie Ruth wraps me up in a last hug before she goes.

"Good luck, Eleanor," she whispers.

After Rosa and Auntie leave, my uncle comes in to say goodbye. As I've said before, he's a man of few words, so we end up just sitting on the couch together.

"Make me proud, you hear?" he says finally. I nod.

"I'll give them their show, just like Auntie said."

"You were born to be a performer; your mother always said that when you were a small one," Uncle says. He smiles. "You've been a firecracker since you were born."

"I'll beat them all at performing," I say, then my voice cracks a little. "What about the others, Uncle? I'm going to have to kill them."

"They're just grooslings, Nell. Just birds that you need to eliminate to save the crops. You're the crop this time, though."

The Peacekeeper opens the door and Uncle stands up, placing one hand on my shoulder. "You'll do fine, Nellybee," he says, using my childhood nickname. Then he goes too.

For the rest of the hour, nobody else comes. I don't have many friends, but I thought the ones I do have would come. Then I think about how Raisa got reaped three or so years ago; I couldn't bring myself to go say goodbye to her. So I can't blame them, really.

The Peacekeepers escort me out at the end of the allotted hour and put me in a car with Taizy Diamond and Lotem; the doors lock from the outside so there's no chance of escape, but Taizy doesn't seem fazed by it. If she turns her head a certain way, her whiskers brush against me and I shudder every time it happens.

We're taken out through the first armored gates, where I've never been before. On the other side of the wall is a white and silver train, surrounded by Peacekeepers and cameramen who are waiting for us to get out of the car. The one I recognize as the Head Peackeeper unlocks the doors; the others help us out and escort us to the door of the train. I think the security is overkill.

I wave at the cameras as cheekily as I dare before stepping onto the train that will take me far away to the Capitol. Right before the doors close, I blow a kiss.

I'm standing by the window when the train starts up, going slow at first as we go through the second gate, which is even more heavily reinforced. It just drives home the fact that District 11 is a prison. The gates open, we pass through, and then they shut again. The solid walls with the barbed wire obscure my view of my home, and then the train is going so fast that it all just blurs together into a streak of grey.

That's my last look of home.

"Let's get a look at you," a woman says behind me, and I spin around to see Seeder Howell looking critically at me. "I'm Seeder, your mentor," she says.

I size her up, then smile. "Hello Seeder, I'm Nell, your tribute."


	5. Competition

** Astrid Clearwater **

"It's Astrid, right?" I turn to glare at my district partner who's drying his glasses on his shirt. It's futile to do that; his shirt is soaked too. Just like my reaping day outfit. From what I can see of my hair, it's nearly black with water.

"Yes," I say, then look out the window again. The windows of the train are streaked with rain as well. "And you're Circuit."

"Yes."

"And you two are my tributes," Beetee says, finally speaking up behind us. Both Circuit and I turn to see our mentor standing in the doorway. He's a pleasant looking young man with close cropped brown hair and dark skin. How old is he now? Twenty-two?

"Forgive me for not introducing myself, I'm-"

"Beetee Latier," I interrupt. "Everyone knows you. You won the 35th Games."

"I did." When Beetee speaks, I can tell every word is weighed beforehand. "Let me look at you two."

Beetee walks around us, looking both Circuit and me up and down. Circuit is obviously a write-off, but I hope I show some promise to my mentor. Finally, he nods approvingly.

"Why don't you two come with me and I'll give you a tour of the train," he says, and we two tributes obediently follow him through the doorway.

The train is beautiful, I'll give the Capitol that. Everything plush and upholstered, lights everywhere. Everything that my apartment at home is not. Even thinking about home and my family brings tears to my eyes, so I push them away. I can't cry here; I need to be strong.

In the main area that Beetee shows us, there's a bunch of couches facing a television, and a room with a dining table. Luxurious surroundings no matter where I go.

"You can bring Miss Astrid to her room," Beetee says, speaking to a Capitol attendant standing by. He nods and gestures for me to follow him.

"Your room," the attendant says, opening a door and gesturing me in. The whole bedroom is bigger than my whole house at home, with a giant bed covered in grey and blue blankets and pillows. And this is just for me!

"The wardrobe is there if you wish to change, and the washroom is through that door," the attendant continues, pointing to the different accessories of the room. "Supper will be served in two hours." Then he goes, shutting the door behind him, leaving me to explore this beautiful room.

The first thing I do is explore the bathroom, drying my hair with a soft towel hanging on a rack. There's a large button on the wall outside the shower; curious, I press it. Instantly some sort of current goes through me; I tear my hand away from the button.

"What was that?" I mutter, then I turn to look in the mirror and see that my hair is perfectly dry. Capitol inventions are clever, I'll give them that as well. Of course, it's District 3 who makes the inventions and sends them to the Capitol. So it's my district who's the clever one.

Back in the main room, I choose a better fitting and drier set of clothes than my reaping dress and jacket. I leave those in a heap by the wardrobe, instead putting on a pretty red dress and matching shoes.

If I'm going to die, I should at least look pretty, don't you think?

For the next couple hours, I lie down on my bed and try to get a grip on things. I'm a tribute in the Hunger Games. I'll admit that I didn't see it coming. I miss Mama and Axel already; how are they going to hold up over the next few weeks?

I'm going to be honest, like Mama always said to be. I don't have a big chance of coming out of the arena alive. Being from District 3 has already put the odds against my favor, and now especially being partnered with the weakling.

Tonight we'll see who the competition is; I can already tell you it's going to be the Career districts, 1, 2, and 4. Occasionally they bring a strong tribute from another district into their pack, but usually the six of them make up the Career pack. Like it or not, a Career is usually the victor.

In the past four years Panem has had four victors, obviously: a boy from 2, a girl from 5, which was unexpected. I don't remember much about that year besides the fact the girl broke her neck. Then a girl from 1, and last year's was a boy from 4. So you see, the Careers have a better shot at it than the rest of us.

Someone knocks on my door, and from the sounds of it it's Delia Charm, with her blue cloud hair and white painted skin.

"Suppertime, Astrid!" she sings out.

"Alright," I reply, rolling off the bed onto my feet. I open the door to see nobody there, so I walk down the hallway towards the dining room on my own.

Everyone is seated already; Circuit, Beetee, and Delia. Most districts have more than one mentor, but since District 3 is one of the lowest of the lows, we just have Beetee. At least we're not as bad as District 12, whose only victor went missing years ago. Or so they say; might be one of those rumors again.

"Hello, Astrid," Beetee says, looking up at me from behind his small glasses. "Take a seat. We're going to talk about what to expect tomorrow."

"Alright." I sit down next to Delia, across from Circuit who's blinking up a storm again. Capitol attendants place plates full of food on the table, steaming hot. Ironically, in the city of electronics, my apartment doesn't get power, so hot food is a rarity.

"Please, take what you like," Beetee says, gesturing. Mama always tried to instill good manners in me, but I forgo them all in favor of snatching pieces of meat, potatoes, and bread. Delia makes a sort of gurgling sound, I suppose in horror, but I don't care. I've been underfed all my life; I think I deserve to act like a wild animal for once.

"So what's happening tomorrow?" Circuit asks, taking food like a prince, once piece at a time.

"We'll get to the Capitol early in the morning; at the train station you'll be put into a car and taken to the Prep Center where you will meet your stylists and prep teams." Beetee takes a forkful of potatoes and puts it in his mouth, chewing slowly, before continuing. "You will not like what they will do to you, I'm afraid. They will groom you to the Capitol standards."

"Why?" I ask through a mouthful of meat.

"That is what the Capitol desires," Beetee says simply. "You'll be dressed in your costumes for the Chariot Rides, and you know what happens from there, I'm sure. And if you do not, then we will talk about it when we come to it. Do we have an understanding?"

Circuit and I nod. This is the best food I've ever eaten in my life, and there's no limit on how much I can take. Being reaped has its charms, that's for certain.

"When we're all finished with our supper, we can go see who our competitors are," Beetee says, and for the rest of the meal Delia chatters away about things in the Capitol that I don't know about and don't care about.

The food is delicious, but the richness sits heavily in my stomach. At home we rarely, if ever, get meat. I'm determined not to throw it up, though; I'll need to gain some weight before I go into the arena.

Beetee wipes his mouth with a white napkin, and I copy him. "Come," he says, getting up, and the rest of us follow. Attendants swoop in to clear our plates away, another novelty.

I curl up on a soft grey chair, knees tucked up; Circuit and Beetee take the couch across from me, and Delia sits in a high-backed chair. Beetee switches the television on, and we all sit back to watch.

"Welcome back, Panem!" Caius Glorystream says, grinning terribly at us all watching. He's added more red tattoos this year, and it looks hideous. "Let's take a look at this year's tributes! I can't wait to see who they are!"

"Get to the point," I mutter.

The reapings start in District 1 and go in number order from there. As usual, there's two volunteers from 1, two blonde haired morons called Cloak and Tiara. District 1 always has the most ridiculous names. The girl, Tiara, looks like your typical ditzy 1 girl, but in the close up that they do of her I can tell there's something dangerous behind her eyes.

2 is interesting, because both tributes are smaller than you'd usually see. The boy has a rat-like look to him, and the girl looks furious to be on the stage. She's not a volunteer, which is odd for District 2. She's smaller than the boy, with chin-length black hair.

"The tributes from 2 this year are Dominicus Sorce and Agrippina Crass, ages eighteen and fifteen!" Caius says in his normal cheery manner.

Then it's Circuit and me; you can really tell Circuit is useless even on the camera, but I come off rather well, if I say so myself. A bit bewildered, but I can work with that. I don't look weak.

In District 4, the first one reaped is a pretty girl with reddish hair named Kelpie, who's obviously trying not to cry onstage. Another non-volunteer, which is definitely odd for the Career districts. The boy is called Shore Seawind, and he volunteers almost immediately. He's good looking too, with shaggy black hair. There's a confidence about him that's a definite contrast to his weepy partner.

"Moving onto District 5!" Caius says, and the screen changes to the square of the power district. "First up we have, oh let's see… Hazel Ashwing, age fourteen!" The girl's plain with no defining features whatsoever. Bloodbath victim, right there.

"And the boy is… Linwood Power, age twelve!" And the boy has as much of a chance as Circuit does; tiny, with blonde hair and little blue framed glasses. Also a bloodbath victim.

District 6 pulls a pretty girl called Mariana, who's eighteen, and a sixteen-year-old boy named Trestle Deadwood who looks like trouble. He positively swaggers up to the stage and keeps a self-confident smirk on his face until the camera pans away from him.

"He'll give them a show," Beetee says, breaking our silence in the living room. I barely look at him, my attention fully on the television screen.

From District 7, the first one reaped is an absolutely beautiful girl named Elowyn Applering. She looks frightened onstage, but all Caius can say about her is how pretty she is with her long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She'll be a favorite in the Capitol this year for sure.

The boy is more forgettable, Kiril Lombard, age fourteen. Very non-descript.

The girl from 8 is a small but composed thirteen-year-old. Delia gasps and leans forward to see the girl closer.

"What?" I ask.

"Isn't that- that's Terra Coppersmith's sister! You know, the victor of the 36th. Oh, bad luck for her!"

I finally make the connection when I see the victor fighting to get up and her fellow victors holding her down. Iry Coppersmith; I vaguely remember her on camera years ago during the interviews. It's not a common name for sure. Bad luck for her.

The boy, Azlon, is a giant, bigger than any of the Careers this year. "Keep an eye on him in training," Beetee says. "He'll be a major adversary in the arena."

Circuit nods like he's trying to memorize every word Beetee says. It's not going to be enough, I think. My partner doesn't have a chance of winning.

Moving onto 9, the girl is pale with black hair woven into a braid. She's pretty enough, which might help her in the arena. The boy is seventeen and looks deadly, with muscles that could only have come from hard work. Caius announces their names as, "Tilling Bluekind and Reaper Willowtree!"

"Ironic that his name is Reaper, isn't it?" I say. Nobody reacts to my attempt at a joke.

The pair from 10 look solemn, the girl, Brierre, is dark-skinned and looks half-starved already. She'll enjoy her time in the Capitol. The boy, Byron, is also very skinny and looks unwell. Could just be the reaping nerves, though. He's rather short, too.

"Now, everyone, you'll love this next pair!" Caius says. "First we have our girl tribute from 11, Eleanor Slatefield, and she is fifteen years old! Listen to what a firecracker she is!"

The girl actually leans into the microphone after her name is announced and says, "It's Nell, actually. And let me tell you, District 11, you've been a fabulous audience today!"

Caius laughs and says, "I guess we'll have to call her Nell! Here's to Nell Slatefield!" I've got to give the girl credit; she's got guts. And she'll give the Capitol the show they want.

The boy is a volunteer, Lotem Raanan. Tall tributes are few and far between this year, but he's rather tall. Taller than his partner, for sure.

Finally it's District 12, the lowest of the low, even worse than District 3 usually. This year it's two dark haired kids; the girl is Celosia, and she's fourteen. I can already tell she's determined to win. The boy, Fissure, looks similar to her, and is the same age, but is bloodbath material by the looks of him.

The Capitol seal comes on again, and Beetee shuts the television off. Silence.

"What do you think?" Beetee asks us, leaning forward.

"What do you think?" I counter.

"Biggest adversaries in the arena are going to be the Careers, the boy from 8, and the boy from 6. Possibly Celosia from 12. As for sponsors, the biggest pullers are going to be Iry from 8 and the pretty one from 7. You two are going to have to work up angles to get sponsors."

"Can I go to my room?" I ask. Beetee gives a sharp nod. I don't get the feeling he likes talking that much.

"Goodnight then," I say, and walk away from the living room, down the hall.


	6. Midnight Train

** Shore Seawind **

I can't sleep. How can I when tomorrow I'll be in the Capitol? This is really happening, the thing that I've been anticipating since last year. I'm a tribute. And even though this bed is comfortable and the covers are warm, my brain refuses to shut down.

Kelpie melted down right after the train took off; just collapsed on the rug crying. I didn't know what to do, but Mags went right up to her and held her close, shushing her like you would a baby.

"I know love. I know," Mags said soothingly, and slowly Kelpie calmed down enough for Mags to let her go.

Mags looked at Kelpie like she could read her thoughts, then said, "You're not supposed to be here. The Combstar girl was supposed to volunteer for you." Kelpie nodded. "What a pity; the girl had promise too. But you're here now, and we must make the best of it, won't we?" I didn't get the feeling she was very thrilled with Kelpie as a tribute.

Mags looked over to the other two victors standing by. Glass was leaning against the wall looking unimpressed. She usually does, when I've seen her around the docks. "I've claimed the boy," Mags said. "You two figure out who wants the girl."

"You always take the boys, Mags," Glass said, rolling her eyes, then turned her attention to Kelpie. "You're not much, are you?" she asked, coming away from the wall and circling Kelpie. "But you're strong enough. A swimmer?"

Kelpie nodded then said, "I swim really well. My Da always said I swim like the creatures I was named for." A few more tears dropped.

"Then we better hope to heaven that they give you water this year," Glass said. "But we can work with you, I think. Riptide, you're new here. I'll take the girl and you can watch to see how to mentor so that next year you can have a shot. What do you say?"

Riptide is obviously very unsure about what he's doing. He's the newest victor, after all. "Alright," he said at last.

"He can be our trade off," Mags said. "We've been needing one the past few years. So we've got our teams settled. Do you two want to be coached together or separately?"

Kelpie and I looked at each other. "We're going to be allies, so I'd say together," I said.

"Kelpie?" Glass asked.

"Together."

"It's settled then. Come into the main room; I'll have an attendant take you to your rooms," Mags said.

I'm in my room now, only it's pitch black. There's a full moon out that I can see through the window, but its light doesn't reach my bedroom. Thalassa loves the moonlight; she loves to swim out in the ocean during a full moon.

I have to win; when I get home I'll be able to marry her! I'm doing this for my family and my district too, but mostly for Thalassa. She's the world to me. How is she doing now that I'm gone? How is my family? I know Ma will cry tonight, but she won't let the girls see. And I know Da is proud of me, which sits well inside.

There's no hope of sleep I don't think; not for a while at least. I turn the lights on, blinking at the sudden bright light. I'm not expert on these things, but the room is beautiful, and would be to anyone I believe. Still, looking at the rich surroundings makes me homesick for the simpleness of home. I switch the television in my room on, and I immediately find what I'm looking for: the recap of the reapings.

I want to see who my allies are again.

The two from District 1 will be easy to partner with I think. It's the tributes from 2 that make me uneasy. There's just something about them that makes distrust them on sight, especially the girl, Agrippina. I don't have a choice in this alliance, however; it's tradition that we three districts band together. I'm just going to have to watch my back.

Well, I'll see them tonight at the Chariot Rides and figure them out from there.

I'm still mad at Aria Combstar for not volunteering. I don't know why I should be, but the fact that she ignored her duty bothers me. Her life won't be pleasant for a while, I'm sure. Like Hake said, she'll get hell from the Agans.

Switching the television off again, I decide to get something to drink. I had wine with my supper, but I'd like something more familiar, like water. Wine is for special occasions in District 4. I guess today counts as a special occasion, though.

The lights are dimmed but not completely turned out when I walk into the living room. Somebody's sitting in a chair by the window, watching the moonlit scenery go by. She hears me as I come in and turns her head quickly. It's Mags.

"Hello young tribute," she says, and I can hear a smile in her voice.

"Hello," I answer, pouring myself some water from the beverage counter provided.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No."

"Come sit by me and we'll have a talk then. I couldn't sleep either," Mags says. Taking my glass of water with me, I sit down across from my mentor, her face in the shadows.

"You're a volunteer," Mags says, and it's not so much a question as a fact.

"Yes."

"We didn't have volunteers like you back in my day," Mags says, sitting back in her chair. "This was a long time ago, mind you. I was District 4's first victor, and just a year younger than you are now."

"That was the year of the 11th Hunger Games?" I ask, sipping my water.

"Yes. Sixteen years old and a victor, if you can imagine. I had the first Victory Tour in history. I'm old, my boy," she says, laughing. "It's been awhile since I was sixteen."

"What's it like in the Victor's Village? I've never been there," I say, crossing my legs and getting comfortable. It feels easy to talk to Mags, even though I barely know her. Everyone in District 4 knows her on sight, of course, but she's not one to hang around the fishing boats.

"Pales in comparison to some of the Capitol houses I've been in," Mags says. "But still very pretty. Home after all these years. Now, tell me, what can you do? The girl can swim, but can you do more than that?"

"I'm a fisherman; I've worked on the boats with my Da since I was a child. I'm strong, and I can throw a trident about twenty feet with accuracy." I don't like to boast, ever, but this is different. These are things to help me survive.

"I can work with you for sure," she says. "For Shore, if you know what I mean." She laughs, and her laughter is contagious; I can't help laughing too.

Once she stops she asks, "Who are you winning for? Who's keeping you going over the next few weeks?"

"My fiancée, and my family and friends."

"He has a fiancée; a taken man," Mags says. "I can spin that tale to the sponsors and they'll fall all over it. One thing about the audience is that they love a good love story. Any sort of novelty to make the Games more interesting goes over well in the Capitol. What's the girl's name?"

"Thalassa."

"Pretty name. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you."

Then Mags' voice turns from light to serious. "I want to warn you now, boy, before you get any further on your journey as a tribute. The arena isn't what you think it is. It will change you. I hid," she says, chuckling a little, "For almost the entire Games. Wasn't until the final three that I was pulled out and made to fight. And what I had to do then changed me."

"What was it?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter now. You can find tapes of it somewhere, but it doesn't matter. Boy, you'll face some terrible decisions in the arena. I don't want you to expect to come out unscathed and unchanged. And let me tell you this," she says, leaning forward a little. "Dying as a tribute is easier than living as a victor. Remember that."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll learn, if you get out alive. And I intend for you to do so," Mags says, sitting back again. "I just don't want you to have unrealistic expectations before that metal plate lifts you into the arena. Do you understand, boy?"

"Not really, to be honest," I say.

"That's alright. I didn't expect you to. I've been doing this a long time, Shore; I've seen and met and said goodbye to more tributes than I would have liked to. So many were like you: confident, charismatic, and good looking too. All attributes that helped them in the arena for certain, but they all had the same flaw. Do you know what that was?"

"No."

"Over-confidence. I want you to keep that in mind when the day of the Games comes, and it will come soon. I have mentored thirty years worth of tributes, and I have two to show for it. Glass and Riptide did not have the fault of over-confidence, and so they are mentors alongside me. I'd like to see you join our team, so keep that in mind."

"But I am going to win. That's not over-confidence to say that," I tell her. "They voted me as tribute; I'm capable. My Da told me I could win, so I know I can."

"So believe it. It will keep you going in the next few weeks. Just don't let it blind you," Mags says. "We should sleep; there's going to be a busy day tomorrow and Kitty will be running us ragged as soon as the sun starts to rise."

Mags gets up and walks over to me. "I have lost too many good men like you, Shore," she says in a lower voice than before. "Don't let me lose another one. Sleep well."

My mentor leaves, but I don't go back to my room just yet. Instead, I stay by the window, sipping water and watching the trees go by, lit by moonlight. I will win. I will win, for everyone at home.

I'm not going to die in the arena.

I must fall asleep after awhile, sitting upright in my chair, because the next thing I know is Kitty Prior saying next to me, "Wake up! We're nearly at the Capitol and it's going to be a very busy day!"


	7. Prep Center

** Terra Coppersmith **

It's been about four years since I set foot in the Capitol, and I wasn't expecting to feel this much pain from seeing it again. Everywhere I look I see Fletcher; he was on the train with me and suddenly I am sixteen again, giddy with first love.

Only love, as it turns out.

And every time I remember something that he did, or someplace where we were, it's like a punch to the stomach, because he's dead. That beautiful, brilliant boy is dead, and it's because of me that he died. He died for me, and I loved him.

The journey here was the worst train ride I've ever had, because Iry is with me. Between her being a tribute and me remembering Fletcher constantly, I'm going to be a wreck by the time Training starts.

It's killing me, too, that my sister is a tribute, and it's probably all my fault as well. They reap the family members of victors too often for it to be just bad luck. Iry is here in the Capitol because of me.

"Deecey came to say goodbye," Iry said last night; I took her straight into her room, a few doors down from mine. I've kept the same room that I've always had while travelling. "Alex too, and Mrs. Underfall. Alex brought Eli and I got to say goodbye to him too. Deecey's going to look after Ribbons."

"Good," I said, hugging my little sister tight.

"Why are you here on the train? I thought you didn't mentor," Iry asked.

"I've stayed home because of you. Now that you're here, there's not much of a point in me staying back in District 8 unable to help you. Here, I'm going to be your mentor."

"What about Shuttle and Woven? Can they help too?"

"Of course," I said. "Of course they can." I'm Iry's mentor, with Shuttle helping, and Woof has taken Azlon alongside Woven. That suits me fine.

Iry keeps glancing down at my hands, each one missing a finger. I know she's wondering what she's going to look like when she comes out of the arena. And she is going to come out! I swear she'll be the victor if I have to go in myself and kill them all.

I will keep my sister alive.

But now, Iry is gone temporarily, gone to her stylists in the Prep Center. And I wait.

"They've given her Damius, did you know?" Shuttle asks, coming up behind me and lightly touching my shoulder. That's one thing you should never do: sneak up behind a victor. Any one of us is liable to take a head off or something if we're startled enough.

"Good; he's always liked Iry," I say. Damius used to be my stylist, back when I was a tribute, and then as a new victor. I haven't seen him in years, though. He was kind and gentle, and I liked him.

There're other victors loitering around in the lobby of the Prep Center, waiting for their own tributes to be done. Some look more impatient than others; like Aulus Buteo from 2. He's pacing up and down and looking rather menacing. Woven and Woof are nowhere to be seen; I'm sure they'll show up at some point. "What do we do in the meantime?" I ask Shuttle.

"We can go to the garden that's adjacent," she says. "Then we'll need to go to a victor stylist to get our makeup done for tonight. Nobody's going to see us, but we're expected to look like victors." Shuttle rolls her eyes.

"Let's go then," I say.

The gardens turn out to be a gigantic greenhouse filled with tropical plants and butterflies. Leafy ferns drape over the walkways and remind me of a jungle. There was a jungle in my Games, but I never went in there. Just the thought of the Games brings Fletcher back to me again.

"I'm reminded of him constantly," I say to Shuttle quietly, leaning over to examine a particular butterfly.

"Who?"

"Fletcher."

"He was good. A fine young man," Shuttle says. She wasn't his mentor, but she knew him too and tried to keep him alive alongside me and Woven. She's been a mentor for years, though. Do the tributes start to blend together after awhile, especially when they don't come back?

"I miss him," I say.

Shuttle nods. There's nothing really else to say. Fletcher's dead, and no amount of grieving or talking about him will bring him back. Ever.

"So this is where you've been hiding!" I turn to see an older man with grey streaked brown hair walking towards us. He's vaguely familiar but I don't know how.

"Elm, what a surprise," Shuttle says, embracing the man. "How do you like your tributes this year?"

"The boy's a bit of a nightmare looks wise, but the girl more than makes up for it. I'm already getting calls about her," he says, a smug look on his face, then he notices me. "And you're Terra Coppersmith. I remember you from your victory tour."

So that's where I've seen him. "Which district?" I ask.

"District 7 of course. Don't you recognize me?"

"It's been a long time."

"Terra, this is Elm, Elm, you know Terra," Shuttle says.

"Good to see you again, Terra," Elm says, shaking hands with me. "I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot of you in the Viewing Hall."

"Elm!" A woman with curly brown hair calls from the garden entrance.

"That'll be Corinna wanting me for something. See you tonight," Elm says, and walks away.

"What year did he win?" I ask Shuttle after he's gone.

"He won the 2nd Games," she says absentmindedly. "Corinna's his victor partner; she won the 24th. Before the Quarter Quell."

"Shuttle, what am I going to do about Iry?" I say, my voice dropping. "I can't lose her."

"We'll get her home. I promise that I'll do everything I can to help you bring her home," Shuttle says.

"I can't lose her," I whisper, sitting down beside an ornamental pool. There are two scenarios that are playing out in front of me: the first is that Iry dies and is buried in the District 8 cemetery alongside my parents and Fletcher. And if she dies, then I die with her, really. She's the person I've been living for all my life.

The second scenario is that Iry wins; she's crowned victor and escapes the arena. What then? My sister will still have changed drastically in the arena, and in a way, I will lose her in either scenario. And what about the Capitol? I've escaped their attentions by hiding in District 8 until they forgot about me. Iry's only thirteen. Will they go after her too?

"You and I will go and get her sponsors during Training, that's how it works," Shuttle says, sitting down beside me. "She's small and sweet, and very likeable. We'll be able to get her sponsors more easily than Elm's going to with his boy tribute."

"And what about me?" I ask. It feels selfish to even bring it up, but it's been weighing on my mind the past day. "Will the Capitol citizens go after me? Like Lissi Hornfell or others like her?" They're the reason I've been kept out of the public eye for the past five years.

Shuttle sighs and rubs her eyes with one hand. "It's going to be a risk. You might have faded enough to get by, or you might not have. It might be the only way to keep Iry alive. It's your choice, ultimately."

I don't hesitate. "I'll do it. Nothing's more important than Iry."

Shuttle smiles wryly. "Then welcome to the Lion's Den."

"There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere," Woven says, coming to join us. "Azlon's got an insane stylist this year. Emmie got moved to District 7 this year, which is a shame."

"Iry's still got Damius, right?" I ask. I hate to think of my little sister in the hands of a madman.

"Damius has Iry, yes. There's some newcomers this year, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing," Woven says. "Woof's been arguing with Azlon's stylist, Janus, for the past half hour. The stylist wants to put Azlon into something terrible; not sure what. You know how Woof gets, though."

"Who're the victor stylists this year?" Shuttle asks.

"Titanium, Pleia, Hippolyta, and Mitsy."

"Lovely," Shuttle says, grimacing. I have no idea who any of these people are; perhaps I would have an idea if this wasn't my first year mentoring.

"They'll be moving onto costuming in an hour; we should beat the rush at the stylist stations," Woven says. Shuttle stands up, then helps me too. Even after five years standing up is difficult on these legs.

Out of the garden and in the main Prep Center lobby, there's a lot more victors than there were before. Men and women both, of all ages and all districts too, as far as I can see. Many of them are talking with each other like old friends, and they probably are.

I recognize several from my Victory Tour, and from watching them on television throughout the years. Standing by the fountain in the center are Athena Fieldman and Aulus Buteo from District 2. And over by the large windows at the front of the Center is Silver Bellcreek, the victor of the 1st Hunger Games, talking to Mags from 4.

The girl who walks very stiffly towards the stylist stations is Porter Tripp, who broke her neck during her Games and had to wear a neck brace while touring. I also see Beetee Latier, the brilliant victor from 3, who won the year before me.

Panem has had forty victors and, not counting the ones who have already died, they are all here in this building. That's a lot of people with the ability to kill.

"Come, Terra," Woven says, and I obediently follow my mentor. Is she still my mentor now that I'm a mentor too? I don't know. I want to see Iry, but I remember from experience that the tributes don't see the mentors until we all get to the stables for the chariot rides. In my year, once the rides were over, Postumius got so outrageously drunk that he had to be dragged upstairs to the apartments.

Remembering that also makes me think of Fletcher, who I was just beginning to know then, and it feels like another punch in the stomach.

"Terra, are you okay?" Shuttle asks, coming up beside me. I nod.

"I'm fine."

** Iry Coppersmith **

I'm scared and sore with all the treatments they've been doing to me, but I know my prep team, and they know me. Back when I was little, and Terra had just won the Games, Sappho, the lady with pink hair and long eyelashes, gave me a makeover. I also know Lem and Tiffany, my other two stylists. My prep team used to be Terra's, and it makes it easier somehow.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry but it's going to hurt just one more time," Tiffany says apologetically.

"It's okay, I know you don't mean to," I say. I've been soaked, trimmed, scraped, and waxed for several hours now, and I think it's starting to come to an end. Then I get to see Damius again. He was always nice to me, too.

Tiffany rips the last strip off my legs; I wince but don't cry out. Lem pats my head in sympathy.

"She's a brave one, isn't she?" Sappho and Tiffany make noises of agreement.

"Alright, let's have a look at you," Sappho says, helping me up. I feel embarrassed to be naked in front of them, but it doesn't last long because Tiffany hands me a robe.

"Damius will be here in a minute. We'll see you when we get you into your costume, okay sweetie?" Tiffany says.

"Okay." Sappho blows me a kiss, then the three of them leave.

A few minutes after they leave, Damius enters, and I can't help breaking out into a smile when I see him. He's the most normal person I've seen so far in the Capitol; he reminds me of the people at home.

"Iry, I never thought I'd see you here," Damius says, shaking my hand. "You've grown up since the last time I saw you."

"I'm thirteen now," I tell him, sliding off the table.

"Why don't we have a bite to eat while we talk?" he asks. He leads the way to another room connected to this one; this new room has a table in the middle and some pretty paintings on the walls. On one wall there's nothing but windows and I can see down into the Capitol. It's beautiful, even more beautiful than I've always dreamed it would be.

Damius presses a button and the table splits open, bringing up a second tabletop underneath that holds two bowls of soup and a basket of bread.

"Nothing too heavy, just something to put meat on your bones," Damius says. "Bon appetite."

"Thank you," I say. Taking a spoonful of soup, it surprises me with how delicious it tastes. Is everything in the Capitol this tasty?

"Now, you'll be wondering about the costume for the Chariot Rides," Damius says after a few minutes. "And I must warn you, I have a new partner this year who's higher in seniority than I am, so I must do as he wants more than I would like to."

"What does he want to do?"

Damius sighs. "Janus's fascination this year is with capes. No matter how much I tell him that capes have been done recently, he insists. So, you will have a cape. I've designed something that will look good on you, and left the boy up to Janus. I hope you'll like it."

"I'll like anything you put me in," I tell him honestly. He laughs.

"Don't speak too soon, Iry. You haven't seen some of the truly dreadful costumes some of the other stylists have conjured up." He gestures to the soup. "Please, eat up. We have an eventful night tonight and I don't want you to faint midway through the chariots."

I giggle. "I've always wanted to come to the Capitol, you know," I tell him.

Damius raises his glass. "Then here's to the Capitol, and here's to returning a victor."

I raise my glass too. I might be small, and I might be young, but Terra won't let me die in the arena. So I don't really need to worry, do I?

An hour later, I'm standing in front of a mirror as Tiffany takes in the sides of my dress. I kind of like my costume, actually. It's a red velvet dress with a white silk cape that flutters behind me when I walk. Sappho braided my hair up really prettily, and they've put a garland of silk flowers on my head.

Tiffany put the final touches in and steps back. "There! You look pretty!"

"Thank you!" I say, spinning in a circle and feeling the cape fly out behind me. "Can I go show Terra?"

"You can," Damius says, patting my shoulder. "The Chariot Rides are due to begin in about a half hour, so we should head down. Come with me."

We take an elevator down from the Prep Center and end up in an enclosed stable. Most of the other tributes are here, and I feel scared when I see them. They're going to want to kill me in a few days. But, for now, I am ignored, and I get to get a good look at them.

The tributes from District 2 are standing by a pair of brown horses talking together. They're wearing tunics that have been painted to look like stone and they look very clever. The girl is shorter than me, which surprises me.

Meanwhile, the tributes from 3 are dressed like robots or cyborgs or something, with wires and metal completely covering them. Neither of them looks too happy to be here.

"Iry!" I rush towards the sound of my name, straight into my sister's arms. "You look nice," Terra says. "Better than the kids from 10."

I look for who she's talking about and immediately giggle. The boy is dressed like a cow, and the girl is dressed like an old-fashioned cowboy. It's terrible.

"Where's the idiot?" Woven says coming up behind us.

"Which one? It sounds like we have a couple this year," Terra says.

"Well I've found one," Shuttle says, pointing to Postumius who's dancing around with a glass in hand, talking to other escorts. "I am not doing a repeat of last year."

"What happened last year?" I ask.

"He gets drunk down here every year, but last year he threw up on the stylist from 2. I have no idea how he didn't get fired after that."

"Here's the other idiot, and Azlon," Woven says. Azlon is coming over, dressed similarly to me, but wearing a very shiny white shirt, black pants, and a heavy red velvet cape. He's also wearing a crown on his head made of fabric. With him is a manic looking man with spiky red hair and too much makeup.

"I'm impressed you held off with your original idea," Shuttle says, looking at the manic man.

"The fool had them make me match Damius," he snarls. "As for the interviews, Janus holds full power!"

"Good for you," Woven says, then makes a point of ignoring him.

"So, Iry, just smile and wave to the crowd. They're going to love you," Terra says. She sounds cheerful, but her mouth wobbles a little like she's trying not to cry. "They're not going to be able to do anything but love you."

"I'll be okay, Terra, I promise!" I tell her, giving my sister a kiss on the cheek.

"It's about time to get onto your chariot," Damius says, taking my hand.

"Good luck," Shuttle and Woven both tell me. Where's Woof?

"Let's go," I say, and I'm led to my chariot pulled by the bay horses.


	8. In the City Circle

** Nell Slatefield **

Absolute humiliation. That's what this is going to be, absolute humiliation. So much has happened since yesterday, and my regard for the situation keeps going down.

Seeder told me what to expect today, but I wasn't expecting _this_. But, here I am in the belly of the beast, in the stables about to go out in front of the whole country with almost nothing on. What is my family going to think?

My stylist, Opal, must have coordinated with Lotem's, because we're dressed pretty much the same. Only difference is that Lotem gets to wear even less than I do. Good for him!

We're all lined up in our chariots now, waiting to go. Some of the others are dressed worse than us, but not many. Opal and Claudia, the stylists, have put Lotem and me in body paint only; painted to look like fruit trees. Lotem gets only some leaves to cover what he really doesn't want the Capitol to see, and I get some sort of woven straw top and leaves on the bottom. It's really worse case scenario.

But, I think I'd rather wear nothing like I am now than the cow getup the District 10s are wearing in front of us. And hey, turning cartwheels will be much easier now that I don't have a dress in the way. So it's a blessing and a curse.

I wonder what Rosa will say. I can picture her face and I can't help cracking up.

When I got on the train yesterday, Taizy was horrified when she realized I wasn't wearing shoes. "Where are your shoes?" she asked in that high-pitched accent everyone here seems to have, absentmindedly combing her whiskers. I can't get over those things; how could you do something like that to yourself?

"I don't wear shoes," I said, staring her down.

"You're a Roots girl, aren't you?" Seeder asked, looking me over. "You look like a Roots girl to me."

"I'm a Roots girl through and through."

"You all don't wear shoes down there, I remember," Seeder said. "I used to be a Roots girl myself."

"You look like a Roots girl to me too," I told her, crossing my arms. "Except you're from the Fruit now."

"Not for so long, girl. Let's have a look at you two, see what we're working with this year."

Harvest, the other District 11 victor, doesn't seem very stable if you ask me. I remember from his Games that he watched his district partner get tortured to death, and then he had to kill the torturer. That was an awful year to watch. Two years ago now it was. Now he's a little off, and I don't really blame him.

"Lotem, that's your name, isn't it?" Seeder asked. My district partner nodded. "You're a volunteer, why'd you volunteer?"

"My mother wanted me to so we could get out of the Roots when I won."

"That's a depressing backstory; Harvest, you'll need to come up with a lie to get the boy more sponsors. Nobody is going to go for the mummy's boy story." Harvest nodded.

"And you, who are you?" Seeder asked, turning back to me.

"Nell Slatefield."

"Ah yes, Nell, as you so eloquently told the district. I think you can be something really special," Seeder told me. "But you're going to have to rein it in for me. I don't tolerate buffoonery when I'm trying to keep you alive. Is that understood?"

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"Seeder. Always Seeder."

The train ride was long, and the day I've had in the Prep Center was even longer. And now I'm here, about to ride out in front of the whole world with my clothes missing. That should shock Auntie.

When I look behind me, I can see the poor District 12 tributes, dressed in this revealing miner's getup with a headlamp strapped to their heads. The boy's completely useless, I can tell you that by just looking at him, but the girl might put up a fight. Just the way she glared at me told me that.

"Right, good luck out there," Seeder says, standing by our chariot. Lotem is next to me, and clearly over this whole experience.

"Don't forget to smile!" Opal says, sipping something. Where is everyone getting these drinks from? Opal has one in her hand, and several of the escorts do too. The moron from 8 is evidently a few glasses in, actually. I'm the one who's kind of at risk here; don't I get a glass? Before I can ask, the chariot lurches forward. The tributes from District 6, wearing black sparkly conductor's uniforms, have just gone out through the doors. I can hear the crowd cheering.

Right, I can do this. It's only twenty minutes and then they will have to wait for my next performance. I'm Nell Slatefield! Of course I can do this! It's just like being on the stage of the Justice Building.

District 7 goes out, dressed like trees. As usual. Our chariot moves forward again. District 8, the big guy and the little girl, go out next. Then the District 9s dressed as farmers. One more then it's me.

Our chariot pulls into place as soon as the cow and cowboy from 10 go out.

"Smile!" Opal shouts somewhere behind us. Then it's our turn, and we're live, on every screen, if only briefly. I remember from past years that the lower districts don't tend to hold the cameras for very long, and this year seems to be no exception.

Immediately I'm overwhelmed by the sheer number of people crowded in on either side of the road, all screaming and calling out names, our names that they're reading off programs in their hands. I smile and wave, and I'm thanking my lucky stars that Opal gave me a top. I would never have come out otherwise. This is still humiliating, though.

The horses pulling the chariots are quick, so the people go by in a flash of color. I catch glimpses of individuals, though, each one more terrifying than the last. A man whose face is completely tattooed; a woman who's wearing a three-foot-tall hat; children who are dyed blues and pinks and purples, all jumping and screaming and pointing at us.

Alright, two can play that game. I start to shout back at them, pointing and waving. "Remember me! I'm your victor!" I shriek. Some of my words are lost in the breeze, but the crowd hears my other ones and cheers me on more. At least I think it's for me. It can't be for the cows or miners in front and behind us. I choose to believe their adulation is for me.

Next to me, Lotem is waving too, blowing a kiss here and there. He keeps one hand firmly gripped on the front of the chariot and uses the other to wave. He looks awkward doing so, and I feel a little bit sorry for him. Not much, though. How much pity can you have in the Hunger Games?

I can't wait for this to be over. I could get down off the chariot right now and turn some cartwheels and handstands in the street, but I think Seeder would kill me before I even got into the arena if I did that. Auntie might even find her way to the Capitol and kill me if I did that. Just the idea of Auntie Ruth here in the Capitol is a funny one.

"Remember me! I'm Nell Slatefield! I'm your victor!" I yell all the way to the President's mansion, which is when my breath is taken away. The building is enormous, as big as six or seven Roots homes, at the very least. Built of white stone that gleams, with two large pillars out front and a balcony on the second level, it's gorgeous.

The man that comes out onto that balcony is less gorgeous. President Snow, the small man who's so universally hated in District 11, walks out just as my horses are stopping. Why on earth did Opal have to make me naked? I can feel myself turning red as the president looks over us, his precious tributes for his precious Hunger Games.

I feel like doing something reckless.

The crowd hushes, and so do we in the chariots, waiting for the president's speech. He smiles down at us, but it's not a very happy smile. He looks more like he'd be very pleased to eat us for supper.

"Welcome to the Capitol, tributes of the 41st Hunger Games," President Snow starts, his hands gripping the white stone of the balcony railing. Two peacekeepers stand by his side, staring straight ahead.

"You have been chosen, or in some cases, volunteered, to compete in this year's Games. I salute you for your courage, your daring, and your willingness to vie for the crown and glory of a victor."

Willingness my foot. Ah, but he says he admires daring. I'll show him daring.

"I would be pleased to see any one of you before me in a few weeks time as I give you the crown. Enjoy your stay here, brave tributes, and train well. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The crowd claps and cheers as the anthem plays, so loud I can feel it in my bones. My heart beats fast as I think about what I'm going to do. It's cheeky, yes, but the crowd will love it. As for the president, or my family- we'll see.

As the last strains of the anthem fade out, I stand up tall. "Hey, Mr. President sir!" I shout, my legs and hands shaking. Nobody ever yells at the president, but he doesn't look angry. More amused than anything, and he smiles down at me. Auntie is going to kill me if I ever make it home alive.

"Yes?" he calls down. Oh lord, the president is speaking to me. Every eye in the whole Capitol, in the world, even, is on me.

"You'll be wanting to bet on me," I shout up, "Because I'm your victor! You should just hand the crown down to me now and be done with it!"

I can feel the ghost of Auntie Ruth rising up behind me and whacking me soundly. Luckily, she's a million miles away in District 11, watching me through the screens in the town square. The president laughs, thankfully, and so do some of the audience. The tension that's descended over the City Circle is lifted slightly by that laughter.

"Unfortunately, I am not allowed to bet, and the crown hasn't been made yet. I'll keep an eye on you especially, though. What's your name?" he asks good-naturedly.

"Nell. Nell Slatefield. And I'll give you a good show, Mr. President sir!"

"I'm sure you will," President Snow says, chuckling. At his signal the music swells again and the chariots do one last round of the city circle before heading into another stable nearby. I keep my eyes on the president, who I've hated all my life, and who I ultimately fear, and he in turn watches me all the way into the stable.

Well, nobody is going to forget me, now are they?

Once we're all safely inside, I jump down off the chariot to a waiting Seeder and Harvest. Seeder looks grim, her face completely blank. "What was that, girl?"

"I just made the whole of Panem remember me," I tell her, trying to stop my knees from shaking. I can't believe I just yelled at the president. Nobody has ever done that, ever. I don't think I'm in trouble for it, from the Capitol at least.

"I told you I don't stand by that sort of nonsense, Nell," Seeder says, her voice low and dangerous. I shrug.

"I didn't know I was going to do it until I did it. You're going to have a hard time reining me in, I tell you that, Seeder."

Before she can say another word, I walk away to see who I can see down here in the stables. I pet my horses as I go by; they did well.

"You look and act ridiculous." I look over to see the girl from 1 standing there, arms crossed.

"Takes one to know one I guess. You got the body paint treatment too; must be a trend this year," I say, leaning against the horse's side. She's dressed in this long gold sparkly dress, and she's been spray painted gold to match. "Gold's a good color on you."

"Your costume is just awful, if you can even call it a costume," she says in a snobby tone, not unlike the tones used by the Branches girls towards the Roots girls.

"Don't you wish you could pull it off?" I ask her. "Your stylist decided the best thing to do was to cover you up. Mine decided the more the Capitol could see of me, the better."

"You'd better give up the idea of being victor, 11," she says, coming closer. "I'm going to win the Games."

"Yeah, and what's your name?" I ask her. I'm feeling extra bold after my conversation with the president. If I can get away with that, I can get away with sassing this girl from 1. "Nobody really knows your name. But everyone knows mine now. Good luck with that, 1."

While she stands there gawping, I push past her and keep walking.

"That was brilliant!" Somebody loops their arm around my neck like we're old friends. It's the boy from 6, the one wearing the conductor's uniform. "Nobody's ever had the guts to do that before. I think we're going to be good friends, you and me."

"If we're going to be friends, then I want your name," I say, pulling away so we're face to face.

"Trestle. Trestle Deadwood. I think you and I can give them a good show, don't you think?"

"Show me tomorrow in training and I'll think about it," I say, arms crossed again.

"Then I will. Nice job out there, Nell." He shoots me finger guns and walks away back to his district partner, who's looking over at me doubtfully.

Seeder comes up behind me and mutters in my ear, "Let's go, Nell. Upstairs." After the day I've had today, I'm starting to feel tired, so I listen for once. I don't think my mentor is very happy with me, but I've put myself out there. I'm going to be unforgettable.

Lotem's looking over at me surreptitiously the whole walk to the elevators. I think he doesn't know what to make of me. Excellent. I'll keep them all on their toes.

The elevator ride is exhilarating; you get into this sort of box and it shoots you up when you press the button with the number of your district. Easy to remember.

The real fun starts when we all get off the elevator and step into the plush apartment that we're going to be living in for the next week.

"What are you doing, girl?" Seeder asks, finally able to raise her voice. "Do you want to put a target on your back? Cause that's what you're doing right now with your shenanigans. If you want my help, then listen to me when I say you need to tone it down."

"Look, all I did was make myself memorable," I say, half paying attention to her, my other half looking around at the beautiful surroundings.

"Se-Seeder," Harvest stutters; it's the first time I've ever heard him speak. "Maybe- maybe she knows what she's doing. She's got a personality that-that all the sponsors are going to love."

Seeder sits down in a chair to think. I devote my full attention to looking around; the floor is hardwood, probably from District 7, and is covered in thick rugs of all colors. Lights hang from the ceiling and are perched on every surface; one wall is just windows overlooking the lit-up Capitol. A dining room, the living room with the television mounted on the wall, and red clothed servants who stand around and look at the floor. Alright, they're creepy. But the rest of the place is absolutely gorgeous.

Rubbing her face, Seeder finally says, "Alright, Nell, we'll make a deal. I'm never going to be able to rein you in, am I?"

"Probably not. My auntie's been trying for years without success."

"Do what you will, since it seems I don't have a choice. But if you're going to pull a harebrained stunt like you did tonight again, let me know beforehand will you? I want to live through this year without my heart giving out."

"Deal," I tell her. Seeder finally smiles. She gets up and comes over to me as I stand in the doorway. Lotem's stepped away to stand by Harvest, who's blinking an awful lot.

"You just might be the gem I've been looking for," Seeder says, kissing my forehead. "Go wash up, both of you, and then we can watch the recap of the Chariot Rides. Then it's an early night for both of you; it's going to be a long and early day tomorrow!"


	9. Clever and Calculating

** Astrid Clearwater **

Half-awake, half still dreaming, I reach across the bed, feeling for my mother. My fingers close on cold and soft blankets instead. Instantly I startle awake, looking at the smooth white ceiling above me that is so unlike the rough boards of home.

This isn't home.

Pulling the covers over my head, I bury myself in blankets and pillows and try to block out the world. I could cry for how much I miss my family. I want my Mama, and my little brother. I want us all to be together again. But I won't cry, because today is the start of the Training sessions, and I won't let my competitors think I'm weak.

What time is it? I peer out of my blanket nest and look around for a clock, finding one on the wall next to my bed. 7:25. Still early.

I rub my face as I go through the events of last night, and how absurd it turned at the end. When I got to the Prep Center, and after I got tortured for several hours, I got to meet my stylist, who goes by the name Sparkle Starglow. She's a classic Capitol idiot. She and Circuit's stylist, Pompey, put Circuit and me into heavy robot costumes; metal and wires running up and down and every which way. I couldn't move in mine well at all. That, of course, eliminated waving to the crowd. My arms were just too heavy.

I couldn't smile at the Capitol people either, once the chariots got underway. When I saw the freakish people lining the streets, I just stared at them. They screamed and cheered anyway, but their calls were mostly likely for the District 2s and 4s who were on either side of Circuit and me.

Circuit, by the way, has not stopped obsessively blinking in two days, and it's driving me crazy.

Then, at the end, after the president made his speech, the girl from 11 started yelling to him, and actually had a conversation with the man. I'm both slightly appalled, and in admiration of her gutsiness. I would never dare to do something like that. As much as I hate the man, I think he and I were on the same wavelength when it came to Nell's outburst. I'm surprised he didn't get angry, to be honest.

The sun's already up over the Capitol, so I get out of my bed to take a look at the city. The Training Center apartment is the height of luxury, even more so than the quarters on the train. My room alone is bigger than the whole apartment in District 3, maybe twice or three times the size. Add onto that the living areas, the other rooms- the people who live here want for nothing. And all the while, my people starve in District 3.

Peering down below, only a few people are walking around. Everyone must be tired out from the festivities yesterday; the streets were full until the early morning. I'll admit it, it's beautiful here. This apartment, however, no matter how beautiful it is, is still a prison. I can't leave until the day of the Games, and then they'll trap me again in the arena.

I've spent my whole life being trapped, really.

I sit by the window, wrapped in a silky grey blanket, until someone knocks on my door.

"Come in," I call. The door opens and Delia steps in, in all her blue cloud hair and white skinned glory.

"Beetee wants you in the dining room; you'll want to get dressed. Wear something sensible," is all she says before she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I stand up, my legs falling asleep from sitting so long. Wear something sensible, she said. Going through the wardrobe that stands against the wall across from my bed, I pull out a dark blue short sleeved shirt, black pants, and comfortable looking shoes.

Once I'm dressed, I go into the washroom to battle my hair. It always wants to do what it wants to do, and never what I want it to do. Nevertheless, I battle the waves into a long red braid that runs down my back. There.

When I look into the mirror, I see the same Astrid I always do. The same girl that they all shun at home. My mother never has told me the truth about who my father was; are the rumors true? Was he a Peacekeeper? And even if he was, why have I always been punished for it? There's so much unfairness there that I don't want to even think about, so I leave the mirror, turning off the lights as I go.

Maybe if I win they won't be so quick to judge me.

Out in the dining room, everyone is already seated. I'd say Beetee looks serious, but he always looks that way. Circuit is dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and black pants, blinking away behind his glasses. Those glasses are not going to fare well in the arena.

"Ah, good, Astrid. Take a seat," Beetee says, gesturing. I pull a green chair to the table and sit down, waiting for my next orders. Delia picks a muffin up off a platter in the middle of the table and passes it to me. I thank her with a nod. One of the red-clothed servants silently pours me a cup of tea.

"Do you want to be coached together or separately?" Beetee asks, looking to Circuit and me each in turn, leaning forward on his folded arms. "You can always change your minds later if you would like."

"Separately," I say immediately, then take a bite of my muffin. It's fruity and very good. I can't get enough of the food here, and by the looks Delia gives me when I eat, my manners horrify her. I can't help it, though.

"Circuit?" Beetee asks.

"I'll go with what she says," my unfortunate district partner says. I almost feel sorry for Circuit, seeing as he's going into certain death in less than a week.

"Separately it is then," Beetee says, sitting back in his chair. "I'll take you each aside before you go downstairs, then. Please, eat. You must be downstairs in the gymnasium at 10:00, or just before."

The rest of breakfast is spent in silence. Circuit picks away at his own muffin; I devour mine in a matter of minutes and take another one as well. Delia makes a sort of clucking noise in her throat at my display, but I don't care. I've never gotten enough to eat in my life, never. This is my chance to fatten up before the Games. I almost forget my tea, but once I remember it, it's cooled enough to drink. Also delicious.

At half past nine, Beetee claps his hands. "Circuit, if you will follow me into the other room," he says. Paling, Circuit gets up and goes with Beetee, leaving Delia and me alone.

"Don't they ever teach you table manners in District 3?" she finally asks.

"My mother taught me lots of manners; I'm just choosing not to use them right now. Haven't you ever been starving, Delia?" I ask her.

The question seems to stump her. "Why, no. I can't- I can't say that I have."

"Then you won't understand how it feels to have a hollow stomach for years on end. If I want to eat now, I am going to eat, and manners be damned."

Before Delia can reply, Beetee's back and sitting down. "Right, Astrid. Today I want you working on survival skills; learning to light a fire and build a shelter can mean the difference between life and death in the arena. Get familiar with the edible plants section; I know from experience that living in District 3 gives you no help with that one. Knots, the whole nine yards there. Don't even bother with weightlifting, but go and work on some combat skills. Do you have that?"

"Yes."

"Then go and join Circuit at the elevators. Time for you to go down."

Circuit's already pressed the button and the elevator doors are opening when I get to them. Circuit avoids my eyes and we don't talk on the way down. Me wanting to be mentored separately has severed any pretenses of friendship or being allies.

The elevator is made of glass, so at first I can look out to see the Capitol, but it quickly vanishes as we shoot underground. How far down is the Gymnasium? Just as I'm wondering when the elevator will stop, it does, and the doors open to reveal a vast underground room.

I walk out ahead of Circuit, towards the center of the room where the other tributes are gathering in a circle. I step into place quietly next to the boy from 2, who doesn't even give me a glance. It's funny in a way to be taller than the tributes from District 2. Looking around, I see that I'm taller than just a few of the others. Not sure if that gives me an advantage or not.

The last pair, the tributes from 5, arrive; when the clock on the wall hits 10:00 precisely, a tall man wearing all black steps into the center of our circle, looking at all of us gravely.

"Welcome tributes. I am the head trainer, Titus. I would advise you to listen to what I have to say, because it will directly impact you and your survival. You will have three days to train and learn what you can. The training hours are from 10 until 6, and there will be a lunch break from 1 until 2 each day. On the third day you will present your skill of choice to the Gamemakers in a private session."

Titus stops there to make sure we all understand, then continues, "There are many different stations here; some will help with survival, others with combat. Train as your mentors have instructed. There are specialists at every station; if you wish to practice fighting, an assistant will be your partner. Fighting with other tributes is strictly prohibited. You are free to go."

With that, everyone scatters, a couple of the younger ones still standing unsurely in the middle. One younger girl who doesn't hesitate is the tall thirteen-year-old from District 8. I lose sight of her after a second, when I go straight for the edible plants, like Beetee told me to do.

The trainer at this station is a rather plain looking woman, but she's friendly enough to me. "Never eat any plant or berry that you don't know without a shadow of a doubt isn't poisonous. That's an easy way to get killed, poison is."

I nod, then take the plant and berry test that she offers me. I get over half of them wrong on the first try, but with practice and examining the different berries the woman presents to me, I end up getting most of them right. I'll come back here later to perfect it.

Thanking the trainer, I examine the room, trying to figure out where I should go next. As I expected, the Careers are all at the combat stations, showing off in front of the rest of us. I think I'll avoid combat until they get tired of it.

At the weightlifting station the boy from 8 is hoisting some impressive weights above his head. Next to that station is the wrestling mats, where the boy from 9 is practicing half-naked. I'll pass, thank you.

So, I avoid the more intensive stations for now, going instead to the fire-making station, where there is currently nobody there. Seems promising. I'm not one to team up with the others, like how the girl from 11 is currently doing with the boy from 6. I find her irritating, actually.

The trainer gives me flint, a small knife, and some tinder to strike the sparks into, then lets me go at it. I'm good enough with starting a fire with matches, since I've had to do it many mornings when the fire's gone out in the woodstove at home. But this is my first time trying with flint, and it's much harder.

The sparks don't seem to want to go where I want them to; they go everywhere else but the tinder. The trainer is patient, giving me gentle tips and letting me do it myself. Why won't the sparks go into the tinder?

Frustrated, I strike the flint wildly, about to throw it down. Of course, that's the moment my luck changes and two sparks land in the tinder. Dropping the flint, I carefully blow on the tiny flame, then add some larger twigs and other bits of fuel until the fire is blazing merrily in front of me. Sitting back on my heels, I allow myself a smile at my handiwork.

"Nice work," a girl says, coming to sit down next to me. My smile immediately fades, and I look blankly at the girl. Black hair in a braid, blue eyes, and skinny like me. This is the District 9 girl.

"I'm Tilling," she says by way of introduction, sticking out her hand. I take it reluctantly, shake it once, then pull away. "You did really well with lighting fires. What are you going to do next?"

"Why?" I ask, a little more hostilely than I intended. Her face flinches briefly, then goes back to normal, her eyes a little wider than before.

"I-I was wondering if you wanted to partner up. For today," she hurries to explain. "I haven't found anyone else who wants to."

That tells me two things: one, she wants to ally with me, and two, nobody else sees her as a viable ally. She's pretty, but doesn't have a chance in the Games. If I ally with her, I'll have no chance either.

"Sorry, I work solo," I say, standing up. Seeing that I'm going, the trainer pours sand over my little fire. Don't want the gymnasium in flames, do we?

Tilling's face falls, trying to mask the disappointment. "Alright, nice to meet you anyway," she says in a voice little more than a whisper.

"Likewise," I say, walking away. I think I'm ready to try the combat stations.

The Careers are all grouped around the spear throwing station, hooting and yelling at each other while they throw. The smaller girl from 2, Agrippina I think her name is, doesn't look like much but can throw a spear with accuracy at least fifteen feet. The boy from 1 throws even farther than that.

I'll just have to avoid them in the arena and hope they kill each other before they find me.

There's a tension in the room, like everyone is one step away from fighting with each other. I doubt that's a false observation, since half of the tributes are just waiting to get into the arena and kill. Predator and prey, that's what it is. I've seen it in school; the weak are picked upon and the strong and cruel are the ones who come out on top.

Well I can tell you now who the predators and prey are here. Number one on the prey list is the twelve-year-old from 5, who's opposite me trying to climb up a rope to the web stretching across the entire ceiling of the gymnasium. He doesn't have enough arm muscle to get more than two knots up before falling.

On the other hand, the top predators in this room are obviously the Careers, who have taken a break from murdering dummies and targets to laugh at the boy. He'll be an immediate target, a toy to play with before disposing of. I've seen it before in other Games. The weak go first and then the strong get to battle it out amongst themselves.

I'll be a strong one.

At 1:00, a bell rings signaling it's time for lunch. The Careers drop their weapons, leaving them to clatter on the ground as they rush to be first out the door. I follow along behind them, allowing the eighteen-year-old from 6 to go in front of me as a buffer between me and them. Mariana, that's what the girl's name is in front of me.

The dining hall is across a corridor leading down from a set of elevators. It's a large room, though not as large as the gymnasium, and it's full of tables that could fit four people easily. Along one side, by the doors, is a long buffet table full of food, and plates at one end. The Careers have already grabbed a plate each and are going through the different dishes provided.

Mariana is in front of me, but we grab a plate at the same time, not even acknowledging each other as we do so. She doesn't look as though she's wanting an ally, so that suits me fine. Going through the buffet, I pick out rice, mixed vegetables, a stew with lamb chunks, and a tiny cake for dessert. My plate is full when I go to sit down.

I carefully calculate where I sit, because I don't want to be one of the timid and frightened ones that will quietly sit on the outskirts, but I don't want to sit near the Careers either, who have pulled two tables together so they can all sit with one another. I settle for a table a few away from them, near Mariana, who's sitting alone at the table in front of me.

The other tributes trickle in, getting their food and sitting down; it gives me a chance to learn who the alliances are, and who the strong and weak may be.

As predicted, the twelve-year-old from 5, Kiril from 7, Tilling, and Circuit take tables on the outskirts, marking them as the weakest. The girl from 8 sits down alone in the middle of the room, holding her head high. Despite her age, I don't mark her as weak.

For the alliances, there's the Careers, obviously. While I shovel stew into my mouth, I study them and how they work. The boy from 1, Cloak, is evidently trying to assert himself as the leader of the group, but the boy from 4, Shire or whatever his name is, also wants to be the leader. I've studied people all my life, trying to figure out who to trust.

Turns out, I've been able to trust nobody but my family.

The boy and girl from 2 don't appear to be fighting for the position of leadership, but they are both very, very dangerous. Especially the girl. They would do well not to trust her. And as for the girl from 4, she's the weakest of all of them. Even the girl from 1 seems more capable.

I turn my attention away from the Careers, letting them fight it out; instead I look to see what other alliances have sprung up. Most of the tributes are sitting alone, like I am, but there are some exceptions.

The boy from 6 and Nell from 11 seem to have started an alliance, as they're sitting together and laughing. And in a move I didn't expect, Hazel from 5 and Fissure from 12 have struck up an alliance, though they seem hesitant around each other.

After watching the others for a few minutes more, I study my food until the lunch bell rings and I have to leave my empty tray behind.

Back in the gymnasium, the Careers have decided to visit the obstacle course, leaving the combat stations free. A couple other tributes have noticed their absence as well, and are picking up weapons for likely the first time in their lives. I push past them, straight to the axes. There're four different sections to the axe station, where each cage-like section has a target in it. The pretty girl from 7 is already there, throwing axes with alarming precision.

The girl looks over at me, wary, but not afraid. Evidently, she can use a weapon, and with how pretty she is she'll pull lots of sponsors.

She's one to watch out for.

The trainer has me take my place in front of the target, axe in hand. "Hold it gently," he says, helping me get my grip on the handle. "Bring it back over your head, then bring your arms forward, releasing the axe at eye level. Do you have that?"

I nod, adjusting my grip gingerly. Breathing out, I throw the axe, sending the top of the blade into the top of the board.

The trainer says, "Good first try. Step a little closer to the board; you over-rotated. And aim a little lower."

My next attempt is better, and after four more shots with the axe I hit the center. Then the trainer has me practice one-handed; first with my right, then with my left, until I can hit the center board consistently.

"Well done, miss," the trainer says, shaking my hand. My arms ache, but it's a good ache. "I'll let you train on your own now; if you need help, you need only ask." He walks over to the next section, where the girl from 12 is bouncing the axe handle off the target every throw.

"You throw well," the girl from 7 says, startling me. She's come around from her section into mine, hands clasped in front of her. She looks like a fairy or an elf; something mystical like that. Her blonde hair is so long that even in braids it hangs below her waist. Pointed face, large purple-blue eyes- like I said, she'll pull all the sponsors.

Which means she might not be the worst ally to have.

"Thank you," I say, folding my arms across my chest.

"Elowyn," she says, sticking out a pale hand to me. I shake it hesitantly, then go back to crossing my arms.

"Astrid."

"I've seen you around today; you're obviously capable. Are you looking for an ally?" she asks, and I see myself briefly in her eyes. She's calculating too, and I can tell she's clever.

"I wasn't," I reply honestly. We don't take our eyes off each other; we're both studying one another. Trying to figure out who the other is. "It might change. What can you do?"

"Training's over in an hour," Elowyn points out, glancing up at the clock. Was I really throwing axes for three hours? No wonder my arms hurt. "Let's meet up tomorrow morning and see if we can't work something out."

"Alright."

"I'll see you around then, Astrid," Elowyn says, smiling at me for the first time. Then, as the short and slow boy from 10 approaches, looking to do some axe throwing, she leaves, wandering away towards the survival stations.

For the last hour, I go back to the fire-starting station and practice making a fire with flint again. It doesn't take as long this time, but it's infinitely more annoying because the unsmiling girl from 10 is at that station too, quietly and solemnly starting a fire quicker than me. It's a relief when the bell rings, signaling the end of the day.

"We will see you tomorrow, tributes; 10:00 sharp!" Titus yells from across the gymnasium. I doubt the Careers even heard him, they left so quickly. The rest of us have to wait for the elevator, because the six of them took it up together. Circuit comes and finds me, standing next to me silently and looking at the floor.

Once the elevator comes down again, I'm pushed along with Circuit into it, followed by the tributes from 5. Neither of them has made much of an impact on me so far; the boy is short, blonde, and bloodbath material; the girl is short, skinny, and mousy.

The doors open on 3 quickly; Circuit and I leave the two others behind as the doors close and the elevator continues its journey upwards.

Beetee's waiting at the door, face serious as usual. "Welcome back. Circuit, you go ahead and change for supper. I want to talk to Astrid first." Circuit doesn't question it, just walks off towards the corridor leading to the bedrooms.

"Tell me what you did today," Beetee says, turning to me once my district partner's gone.

"Like you told me to, I worked on the edible plants, fire-starting with a flint, and axes."

"Were you good at any of those things?" His forehead is furrowed, making him look older than his twenty-two years.

"Passable at the edible plants; I intend to go back to that station tomorrow; I got better with the flint the second try, and I'm good at the axes. The trainer had me throw them with both hands, and I got close to the center almost every time."

"Good, good," Beetee says, relaxing slightly. He must be relieved that one of his tributes isn't bloodbath material. I'm showing him I have a chance. "What about alliances?"

"I prefer to go solo, but Elowyn from 7 and I are going to see about each other as allies tomorrow."

"Is she good with any weapons?"

"Excellent with an axe," I say. Beetee nods his approval.

"You've done well, Astrid. Use your next two days wisely."

Then Beetee walks away, leaving me by the door to the elevators, presumably off to talk to Circuit.

I'm going to show Beetee, I'm going to show the Careers; I'm going to show all of District 3 that I am not one to be underestimated. I am going to be the victor of the Hunger Games, and nothing they can say or do will be able to stop me.


	10. Negotiating the Alliance

** Shore Seawind **

I've been picking scales off my arms and face since the Chariot Rides, and I doubt they'll all be gone by the time we head into the arena. My brilliant stylist, Augustus, decided that I would look best as a fish, and glued what seems like a thousand scales all over me. They're never going to come off completely.

"Are you listening, Shore?" Mags asks. The table's gone noticeably quiet. I clear my mind and put my cup of coffee down on the table, fingering the scale I just found on my arm.

"Yes, I'm listening."

"Then you'll know that I want you both to practice some survival skills today. Combat is all well and good, but if you don't know what's good to eat or how to light a fire, that's it for you."

Kelpie looks nervously between Mags and Glass; neither of them are smiling. Riptide says nothing, picking at the white tablecloth obsessively. By the looks of him, he shouldn't be in the Capitol at all. The boy's all nerves.

"Let's talk allies," Glass says, leaning forward. "Kelpie, you're going to have to show them something good today. I've gotten formal requests for Shore, but District 1 is hesitating on you." Kelpie's turned almost green with anxiety. She's lost if she doesn't get in with us.

"So what do I have to do?" she asks, swallowing.

"I want you to forget about what Mags just said. You can brush up on the survival skills later." Mags gives Glass a look but stays silent. "Where did you work back home? Shore here was a fisherman, what did you do?"

"My Da's a boat-builder and my Mam's a net weaver. I helped them mostly."

Glass sighs and rubs her forehead. "Right, so you got zero helpful skills. Wonderful. Well, go and choose a weapon, and stick with it until you're decent at it, understand? Do the rope course, do whatever it takes to impress them. Because, I hope you understand, Kelpie, if the formal invitation doesn't come in by tomorrow morning, you're out of an alliance. And you'd better scramble to find someone new to ally with or you're dead."

Kelpie bursts into tears at Glass's words. Mags shoots daggers at Glass, while Riptide and I sit uncomfortably on either side of Kelpie.

"There, there, it's not as bad as all that," Mags says, getting up and coming around the table to Kelpie. "Glass, there's no need for that kind of language. You'll be alright, Kelpie. But do visit the combat stations today. It's a good idea to impress your allies no matter what."

Mags glances at the clock. "Dry your tears quickly; you'll need to go down in just a few minutes. You'll be just fine."

At ten minutes to ten, Kelpie and I find ourselves in the elevator going down to the gymnasium. I'm not sure what to say to her, since she's still blinking back tears. That won't go over well with our allies; weakness is not allowed.

As the doors open onto the second day of training in the gymnasium, I get Kelpie a reassuring smile. I get a flicker of a smile in return before the others descend on us. There's no standing in the circle today; tributes are spread around the room already.

Cloak comes and slaps me on the back in a friendliness that I know is fake. There's a subtle battle going on between us as to who will be the leader, and it will only get worse once we're in the arena. He's bright for a District 1 tribute, who all tend to be a few knots short of a rope. Actually, both he and Tiara are smart, and both are talented at swordsmanship.

"Have you been crying?" Aggie asks Kelpie, crossing her arms. Agrippina, or Aggie as she told us to call her, is dangerous. She's small for fifteen, but she would be small for a twelve-year-old too; despite that, her aim is scarily accurate, no matter what weapon she uses. Most girls her size wouldn't intimidate anyone, but she's got almost everyone in the room frightened of her. I'm not scared of her, but I distrust her.

However, with this group, it's either be an ally or be an enemy. I'm not a fool; I'd rather have them as my pretend friends than having them want to kill me.

"I told her a joke on the way down that made her laugh so hard she cried," I say. Kelpie looks up at me, her eyes telling me she's grateful that I've covered for her. If she doesn't get into our group, the Agans will give me as much hell as Aria's getting when I get back to District 4. I'll help her out a bit.

"Yeah? Let's hear the joke then," Aggie says.

"District 4 humor, you wouldn't understand," I say. "Where are we starting first today?"

Aggie lets the subject drop, but she doesn't take her eyes off Kelpie. "Why don't you tell us, Ocean Boy?"

"Let's go shoot some arrows."

"Ocean Boy wants to shoot some arrows!" Cloak says. "Let's follow him, shall we?"

The arrow hits well off the mark I was aiming for. Aggie laughs, a harsh laugh that makes her sound like a crow. Nothing like the laughter that I'm used to; Da's deep rumbling laugh, Thalassa's laugh that sounds like pure joy, or my sisters' high-pitched giggling. Sounds of happiness, not mockery.

"Well we can't all be good at everything, now can we?" I say, smirking at Aggie.

"Shoot again, won't you?" she says.

"Nah, I think I'm good for now. Why don't you have a try, since you're so eager?" I ask, pushing the bow into her hands. Aggie scowls at me but steps into place; Dominicus hands her an arrow. She nocks the arrow, pulls the string back, lets go, and the arrow flies into the center of the target.

Aggie smiles smugly at me, shoving the bow towards me. "That's how it's done, 4."

Cloak nudges me. "Look, it's the freak from District 3 watching us again."

"Which one? They're both kind of weird," I say, turning around. It's the girl, the one with the red hair and big green eyes, who's watching us while sitting at the edible plants section.

"She's been watching everyone; it's creepy," Cloak says.

"So what're we going to do; scare her off?" I say.

"I can do that," Aggie says, and before we can do anything, she's striding off towards the District 3 girl. The twelve-year-old from 5 almost bumps into her; short as Aggie is, she's still taller than the kid. "Watch where you're going!" she yells at him, making the boy stumble backwards and run.

The rest of us standing here just howl at the reaction. "Look at the scaredy-cat!" Tiara calls after him. "That's right; why don't you just keep running? That's all you can do anyway!"

"Shh! Aggie's reached her," I say, pointing. Dominicus grins and bounces a little on the balls of his feet. Aggie leans down, mutters something low, then spins elegantly, walking back to us with a pep in her step.

"She didn't like whatever you said!" Cloak says, patting Aggie on the back. Aggie looks back to see the girl glaring at us with a ferocity I didn't think possible from District 3.

"What do you say we eliminate that one first off?" I say. "Make her stop looking at us."

Aggie smiles a crooked smile, her dark blue eyes flashing. "I'll make her stop looking alright." Her crooked smile turns into an uncharacteristically sweet one, looking up at me. "Why don't we go throw some knives?"

Dominicus keeps looking back at the girl as we walk away, though. "She doesn't look like your typical District 3, does she?"

Tiara reaches back and pulls him along. "What does it matter? She'll be dead soon. Just like her partner," she says, pointing out the tall boy with glasses that keeps skulking around the edges of the room. "Which one should we get first?"

"I don't care about the order," Aggie says, "I just want the girl. The rest of you can have fun with the boy."

"Deal," Cloak says, and that's the end of the conversation.

Every time I look at the District 3 girl, though, she's watching us from wherever she is in the room.

About a half hour before lunch, it appears that Kelpie has chosen knives as her weapon. No tears now; she throws the blades with a determination I didn't know she had. Whether it's willpower, concentration, or just plain talent, I don't know, but she's getting better with each throw.

"Where'd you learn to throw, 4?" Aggie asks, obviously surprised that Kelpie can throw like that.

"Natural talent," Kelpie says, throwing another knife and seeing it lodge in the dead center of the board.

"Good to see you can do something," Tiara says; Kelpie flushes and steps backwards. Aggie takes her place, throwing two knives at once. Both of them lodge in the center.

"Nice one," I say.

"I'd like to see you do better," Aggie says, looking up at me.

"Nah, I don't want to embarrass you," I say, standing back and fiddling with a knife. Kelpie throws one last blade, seeing it lodge just above the center circle.

Without warning, Aggie throws a knife well across the room, making the girl from 11 jump backwards; it lodges in the wall by the door and stays there.

"Would you watch where you're going?" the girl shouts.

Tiara says, "You see that one? We kill her too, okay?"

"Perfectly fine with that," I tell her. I find the girl irritating, and I'm pretty sure everyone else does too. Everyone, that is, except for the troublemaker from 6, who's been following her around since the first day of training.

Aggie turns to Kelpie and says, "Will you go get that, sweetheart?" Kelpie blinks a few times, taking in Aggie's sweet smile, then walks off at a fast pace to retrieve the knife.

"Right, is she in or is she out?" Aggie asks, dropping the smile. "She can throw a knife, but how useful is she going to be?"

"I'd ditch her," Tiara says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "She's weak and annoying."

"Let's see what she can do this afternoon," Dominicus says. He's the quietest of our group, but no less deadly. "We're all supposed to team up; that's what Aulus said."

"To hell with what Aulus said!" Aggie says. "If she's going to slow us down, we might as well kill her in the bloodbath and be done with it."

"I say keep her," I put in. "If we have her in the group even for a short time, then we've fulfilled our alliance requirements. If we ditch her now, then some of the other weak ones might come asking to join; plus, when we're in the arena, we have to appear as a strong group, and we can only do that with the six of us."

Cloak scowls, then nods. "He's got a point. We can easily dispose of her once we're in the arena. She's not going to be able to kill any of us. So what's the harm? I say keep her."

"Fine," Aggie says in a low voice. "We'll keep her. But we kill her as soon as we can, understood?"

"Loud and clear," I say.

"Better hush it," Tiara says, lowering her voice too. "She's coming back."

Kelpie comes up and holds the knife out to Aggie. "Your knife." Aggie snatches the blade from Kelpie, turns it over twice, then throws it at the target, where it sticks in the center circle.

"Thank you," Aggie says coolly. Kelpie looks between me and Aggie, her hands shaking a little. _I hope you know I just got you into the alliance,_ I think. She won't last long the way she's going, though.

The bell rings for lunch, and almost before it stops, we're out the door and heading for the dining hall, before anyone else has a chance to pick a table or the food.

Today the buffet tables hold bowls of blue colored soup, honey coated buns, chicken with oranges, buttered peas, and beets. Featured on the dessert tray are little puffs labeled meringues. I take a bit of everything and make my way to my group, where Dominicus and Tiara have pushed two tables together to make one big table for all of us.

I sit down next to Tiara, who's taken everything but the beets, and has two of the meringues on her tray. "Trying everything today, Ocean Boy?" she teases.

"Might as well; I'll never get food as good as this again!" The food here in the Capitol is excellent, but I miss Ma's cooking back home. Simpler for sure, but more familiar. After the fishing was done for the day, Da would always keep a fish or two back for her, and we would bring it home at the end of the day. Ma and the girls kept a garden out back, and we would bring seaweed home too, for them to dry and put into the bread.

I wonder what they're doing right now. Da's most likely out on the Jewel, as always, but what of Ma and the girls? And what about Thalassa? Where is she during the day?

"Come back to earth, Shore," Tiara says, poking me in the side. "What'cha thinking about?"

"Home," I reply honestly.

"Here, this tastes like home," Kelpie says, throwing me a bun from the bread basket in the middle of the table. I hadn't noticed it yesterday, but when I catch the bun from Kelpie, I see that it's light green, tinted by seaweed. District 4 bread. When I take a bite out of it, happy memories rush back to me, and even just temporarily, I am home again.

"Thanks," I tell her. Kelpie smiles and ducks her head.

Aggie, Cloak, and Tiara all start up a loud, boisterous conversation; I join in here and there, but mostly I watch the others come in, most timidly, and pick out the food from the buffet. Assistants stand by, ready to help if needed.

The pretty girl from 7 comes in with the staring District 3 girl; they choose their food and sit down together halfway across the room. Tiara stares with an open mouth.

"Elowyn chose to ally with _her_?" she says, turning to look at us, then back to the duo. "With _her_?"

"So we'll get rid of both of them," Aggie says offhandedly. "She has to go no matter what; they both do. Pretty girl will pull too many sponsors."

"We can have some fun with them," Cloak says.

"I don't care what you do with pretty girl; I want the redhead," Aggie says.

"What's her name, anyway?" Tiara asks.

"Why don't you ask her, diamonds?" Dominicus says, taking a bite out of his honey bun.

"Maybe I will."

"Oi! Red hair!" Cloak yells across the room. The few bits of conversation that had popped up immediately die; everyone sits watching us. "What's your name?"

The girl must know he's talking to her. She's glaring over here anyway. "Wouldn't you like to know," she calls back.

"I should go shake it out of her," Cloak says, moving to get up. Dominicus grabs his arm.

"She's not worth it. We don't need to know her name to kill her."

"Sit down and stop looking like a fool," Aggie says, rolling her eyes.

Cloak sits down and stabs a beet angrily. "I'd like to get my hands on her," he mumbles.

"Soon enough," Tiara says, reaching across the table to pat him on the arm. "Soon enough."

After lunch, it's my turn to show my allies what I can do. I start out at the knot station, where I amuse myself tying different knots; bowlines, hitches, and even a 4-strand square sinnet that doesn't have much of a purpose beside decoration. Kelpie joins me after a few minutes, tying her own knots that she's learned as a net weaver. Knots are essential to a sailor, and I can't remember when I even learned them. They're as engrained in me as breathing.

"This is boring," Aggie says, yawning. "So you can tie knots, congratulations."

"These knots are very complicated," the trainer says. "Would you like me to teach you how to set a trap that might be useful?"

"No, I want to go do something useful, like throw something sharp."

Putting the last finishing touches on my wall and crown knot, I put the ropes down. "Fine. But I'm going to the trident station. Who's going to join me?"

It turns out, they all do. I've been throwing and wielding tridents since I was a kid; every fisherman in District 4 has. Just like tying knots, using a trident is just second nature. Now I use my upbringing to my advantage and throw tridents through the stomachs of practice dummies; every one guaranteeing a kill if the dummies were real.

"Nice," Tiara says as I throw a silver trident through a dummy twenty feet away. Cloak and Dominicus are giving them a shot, but Aggie has wandered away, back to the knives.

"Thanks," I say, wiping my forehead. When I take my hand away, a scale comes off onto it. "Really? I'm going to be finding these stupid things for months." I hold the scale up to Tiara and she laughs.

"Getting all the gold paint from the chariots off of me was brutal; I must have spent three hours in the shower trying to get it all out." Tiara laughs again. "Looks like you impressed some of them."

I look to see the boy from 12 and the boy from 5 watching us, standing stiff and motionless. "I think my talent has terrified them," I say. Tiara makes a sudden movement towards them and the two boys scatter. Neither of them has a chance in the arena, so why bother training?

"Come on; let's go do some of the survival stations. My mentor wanted me to," I say, shifting my attention from the weak boys who are a distance away now. Kelpie looks unsure whether to come or to stay and practice throwing tridents. She shouldn't look so unsure; she's in the alliance now. But does she know that?

"Fine," Tiara says, pulling her hair back and out of the way.

"Kelpie, let's go," I say, making up her mind for her. "Let's go over to edible plants; see if we can pick anything up there."

On the way over, Tiara asks, "So who's your mentor?"

"Mags Flanagan. You know her?"

"Heard of her. And I saw her last year when she came through my district with the victor. You know him, what's his name…"

"Riptide," I answer. "Who's your mentor?"

"Silver Bellcreek. If you don't know her, I'd be surprised," Tiara says.

"First victor ever, wasn't she?"

"Yes. I like her, even if she gets a little spacey sometimes. Right, here's the plants. This is going to be so boring, Shore. I'm not staying more than twenty minutes here."

It does turn out to be a bit boring, but Kelpie is good at identifying the differences between poisonous berries and non poisonous berries. I know most of the water plants, which makes the trainer happy. "The knowledge here and how you use it all depends on the arena," he says.

"It had better not be a tundra," Tiara says. "I hate the cold. Maybe it'll be somewhere indoors."

"I want water," I say. Kelpie nods.

"Me too. Lots of water."

"We're not even going to use this," Tiara says, gesturing to the plants in front of her. "We're going to take the supplies and get so rich that we're not going to have to want for anything. That's how we do it."

"You never know what kind of arena it will be, though," the trainer says kindly.

"Whatever. I'm done here. Shore, Kelpie, are you coming?"

"Sure," I say, getting up. "Where to now?"

"I want to try throwing the knives again," Kelpie says quietly.

"What time is it?" I ask, looking around for the clock. "We've got two hours. I want to swing by shelter making before we go back to knives."

"Fine. Where's Aggie and the others?" Tiara asks.

"She's at the knives, and they're still at the trident station," I say, pointing.

"Well they're not missing us, are they?"

"Come on," Kelpie says. "I want to build a shelter too."

Building shelters actually turns out to be really fun. The trainer shows us a picture of a shelter called a round lodge, gives us the wood to make it, and lets us at it. Over on this side of the gymnasium, the ground is dirt and moss, so that the shelters will stay up. There're a few stations on the dirt side; like snare making, camouflage, and edible plants and insects.

"Will you hold your side up, Kelpie?" Tiara says, putting another large stick in place. We're trying to get all the sticks to stand up, making a circle at the top.

"I'm trying!" Kelpie says; the sticks she's holding collapse inward and knock the whole shelter down. Tiara bursts into giggles.

"Why can't we use a tarp?" I ask.

"You don't know that you'll have a tarp in the arena," the trainer points out.

"We can't really be sure we'll have sticks either," Kelpie says, sitting down and laughing. She hasn't laughed before now, so it's nice to hear.

"What are you doing?" Dominicus asks, coming over with Cloak. "And where's Aggie?"

"We're building a round lodge, and as far as I know, she's still at the knives," Tiara says, still giggling. "Come and help us!"

Cloak helps Tiara up, and together we get the sticks to stay up. The trainer hands me some rope and, while Cloak and Kelpie make sure the thing doesn't fall over, I tie the sticks together. Kelpie and I stand back to admire our handiwork.

Tiara climbs inside and laughs. "It's tiny!"

Seeing the round lodge up and fully functioning seems to turn us into kids again. My sisters would love it, especially Maris and Isla. "I'm coming in!" I say, crawling inside, quickly followed by Kelpie and Cloak. I sit with my knees scrunched up to my chest, and Kelpie's sitting on Tiara's legs while they both laugh.

"I think it's a little tight," Dominicus says, peering in through the doorway that we made.

"You think?" Cloak says, but he's laughing too.

"What on earth are you doing?" Aggie says, coming over.

"We built a round lodge!" Tiara says.

"Congratulations; you look ridiculous."

"Why don't you come on in?" I ask.

"No."

Cloak makes the mistake of leaning back against one of the walls, and the whole thing falls down on top of us. Luckily the sticks aren't very heavy, but I get hit in the head anyways. When I sit up, Tiara is flat on her back, laughing her head off.

"I think we should stick by the Cornucopia, since we suck at homemade shelters," I say, and it just makes her laugh harder.

"Come on, diamonds, it's not that funny," Dominicus says, giving Tiara a hand up. Kelpie stands up too, looking pleased to be included in the alliance.

"Quit fooling around and let's go," Aggie says, turning on her heel and walking away. Dominicus follows after her, and the rest of us trail along behind them.

Looking around, every eye is on us; I can see the envy in the faces of the other tributes. I grin at all of them, clapping Cloak on the back.

They should be envious; I've got the best chance of any of them, thanks to growing up in District 4 and being part of the biggest alliance in the Games. Most of the others are going in alone; I'll have my allies to back me up, at least for a time.

None of them is going to be the victor.

But I am.


	11. Overcoming Obstacles

** Iry Coppersmith **

I look up when I hear the commotion coming from the opposite side of the room. It's the Careers; making a mess of the shelter station and laughing about it. It's a little annoying, but I don't really care what they do; as long as they don't notice me. So far, I've been unnoticed, just like Terra told me to be.

"You're one of the youngest, and my sister, so you'll attract attention," she said yesterday morning. "Don't get in the way of the Careers."

I promised her I wouldn't.

The instructor helps guide my hands through the tricky snare I'm setting up. "It looks good, so shall we trip it?" he says, not unkindly. I nod. He pulls a little on the noose, and the trap flies upwards, disengaged.

"Well done," the instructor says. "If that had been an animal, you would have supper."

"Thank you!" I say, beaming at her.

"Would you like to try another kind of snare?"

I shake my head. "No thank you. I want to try another station now."

I'm going into the Games by myself. Terra doesn't want me to have allies; she says they'll slow me down, and I'm not to share the parachutes she's going to send me. "All you need is yourself; you're going to hide until the very end, and then you're going to win."

See, I don't think me not having allies is about them slowing me down. I think it's about Fletcher, Terra's partner in her Games, but I'm not going to say that to her. I'm alright going in by myself; there's nobody here that I would want to team up with anyway. And definitely not Azlon; he's decided to go solo too. Technically we're supposed to be coached separately, but when Woof is having his mentoring talks with Azlon, I make a point of being nearby to eavesdrop.

I've been eavesdropping all my life; how else would I get information? I've found out loads that way, like all about Terra's Games, and what happened to my father when he died. I don't think even Terra knows that, but I heard some workers talking one day, a few years ago. One of the foremen, who didn't like my dad, pushed him into a moving machine one day, and it killed him. I miss my dad so much. We visit him and my mother almost every week in the cemetery, but I'd rather have him alive and here. Not here as in the Capitol, but here as in watching me and cheering me on from back home.

The slingshot station has been deserted for most of the past two days, and it's deserted right now too. A perfect place for me to fly under the radar. Everyone else is doing something fancier; like the Careers, who are back at the tridents, Celosia from 12 who's doing the ropes course, or even Reaper from 9, who's practicing wrestling with an assistant. He scares me too, but I won't let him see it. I won't let any of them know I'm scared of them.

The instructor here hands me a plastic slingshot and a small bag of round projectiles, similar to the marbles I liked to play with at school when I was younger. Thinking about school makes me think about home, and my cat; I blink away tears when I think about Ribbons. At least Deecey is looking after her.

I stand sideways, the way the trainer is showing me, load the slingshot, and aim. When I let the marble go, it hits the top of the wall, nowhere near the target.

"Aim lower," the trainer says. I load the slingshot again, and again, and again, the repetition bringing my aim closer to the target each time.

My arm hurts, so I shake it out. "You're getting better," says the trainer, who isn't as cheerful as the one at the snare making station. Where do these instructors come from, anyway? A lot of them don't sound like they're from the Capitol at all.

"Thanks," I tell the man anyways, standing sideways and aiming again, this time taking extra care to aim. When I let the ball fly, it hits the very left of the target; the closest I've come today. I jump up and down; I did it! I came close to the target! But now my arm hurts from shooting so much.

"Okay, thank you!" I say, handing the slingshot and the remaining balls back to the trainer. He nods his head to me, and I walk away, surveying the gymnasium to see where to go next.

My breath catches in my throat when I see the boy from 4 send a trident through a practice dummy a good twenty feet away from him. Suddenly I don't feel so pleased with my slingshot accomplishments. I'm thirteen against his seventeen, and he's much taller and stronger than me. If he catches me, he will kill me.

My sister has been telling me that she'll make sure I'm safe in the arena, and that there's no doubt that I'm going to be the victor. _But what if she's wrong?_ Seeing all of the other tributes that are so much more capable than I am scares me to death.

 _What if I can't hide well enough?_ And how is Terra going to keep me safe from them if they catch me? She can't stop them if she's in the Capitol. No, I can't think like that. I have an edge too; I'm Terra's sister. Surely there will be sponsors for me. Besides that, I'm better fed, and healthier than the majority of the kids here. Excepting the Careers, most of the tributes have had to scramble for food their whole lives, and it shows. Especially the tributes from 3, the pair from 5, and the kids from 11 and 12. They look thin and sick.

I, on the other hand, have been living in Victor's Village for the past five years, with the best food of District 8. That's my edge; I'm healthier than everyone here. Maybe I can outlast them too.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy from 7 on the obstacle course. That's something I haven't tried yet. So I head over there, avoiding the others as I go; particularly the rowdy duo that are Trestle from 6 and Nell from 11, who have been making mischief and all sorts of trouble all throughout Training.

"You want to hear the rules?" the instructor of the obstacle course says; she's an older woman with severely pulled back hair, holding a clipboard.

"Okay."

"You have to get through the course as quickly as possible; if you fall off, you have to start over. Your time will be displayed on the wall when you've finished." Her voice is a monotone, and hard to listen to. "If you're looking for a harder challenge, you can choose to be timed and get through the course in under two minutes. Understand?"

I nod. "Up you go."

I climb the steps up to the platform, and I wait. I can do this. _I can do this._

A buzzer sounds and I start running, first over a balance beam that narrows near the end; I jump off with no difficulty. From there I grab onto a set of hanging rings, going hand over hand until I reach the other side. When I drop down onto the platform there, my palms burn.

"You're at 35 seconds!" the instructor calls; breathing heavily already, I launch myself onto the net that climbs upwards to a peak, then grows wider holes on the other side going down. Without warning, on the second side, the net spins around, and I almost lose my grip.

From a distance away, I hear laughing; is it directed at me? Gritting my teeth, I get myself down the net and onto steady ground again. The net was a big time waster; I'm over a minute in now.

The next obstacle I have to overcome are these mushroom shaped islands that I hop onto, all the way across. I'm so tired; I've never been this tired in my whole life, I swear. Still four or five more obstacles to go.

There're ropes I have to swing from to get the momentum to reach the next one, all the way across; after that the course takes a sharp turn, revealing poles stuck out of the ground that I have to maneuver across. On the second to last pole, I nearly slip and fall, making someone laugh again. I won't give whoever it is the satisfaction of me falling. So I make it to the opposite platform.

The next part is easier; walk along a narrow beam while balls swing back and forth, trying to knock the unlucky tribute off. Luckily, I have good timing and make it across without a problem. After that, it's three spinning wheels suspended from a frame that I have to go across to get to the other side. My hands hurt and my arms shake, but I love the feeling of flying that it gives me.

Two more.

Angled steps that I have to run across, each one getting higher as I go. Now my legs are shaking; I'm going to hurt tomorrow. That's okay. I can do this. One more.

The last is a wall that I have to run up. I'm quick, and I'm fairly light; taking a few steps backwards, I run up the wall and sit down, ringing the bell that's up there for everyone to hear. I did it! The time on the wall flashes at 4 minutes, but I'm just happy I did it!

The District 7 boy is watching me from the sidelines, eyes wide. He didn't make it past the ropes before he fell down on his face; a bruise is already starting on his cheek. I avoid his eyes, instead hopping down off the wall and going over to the instructor. My legs feel wobbly.

"Nicely done, miss," the instructor says, glancing at me. "Not a bad time."

I walk away trying not to show how tired I am now, and how shaky I feel. There're more than a few pairs of eyes watching me, and I can't let myself be made a target. I'm so tired, though. I want to curl up right here and take a nap. When Training is over for the day, then I can nap upstairs.

"Hey, that was really neat!" a girl says, running up to me with a shy smile. "I'm Tilling, by the way!"

"Iry," I say, eyeing the girl with the black braid. She's been going around to everyone but the Careers, obviously trying to make allies with somebody. She's desperate. But by doing this, this meet and greet everyone, she's only making herself a target. Better to blend in; don't make them notice you.

"I'm going to go over to edible plants; I'm really good at it so far, but maybe there's some plants that we don't have in 9 that I've missed!" Her voice is a high-pitched ramble of anxiety. More hysteria than anxiety, actually. She sounds like how Terra gets sometimes, when her flashbacks hit her unexpectedly. Terra talks a blue streak then, before usually bursting into tears. I used to run and get Shuttle when I was little, but these days I've been managing my sister by myself.

Tilling wrings her hands together, smiling hopefully. "Do- do you want to come with me?"

 _"No allies, Iry."_ Terra's voice rings in my head.

"No. No thank you." I smile at the girl anyway. "I work solo."

"Oh, okay," Tilling says, her face dropping. I feel bad about leaving her there, but I have to listen to Terra. Instead of edible plants, I go to fish hook making, which is also deserted.

For the last hour or so of Training, I sit and make fish hooks out of thorns, sticks, pins, wire, and bone. The trainer talks the whole time, and I think she's pleased to have someone come work with her at last. It's not the most popular station, that's for sure.

"You can never tell what the arena is going to look like," she says, handing me more supplies. "You know, there was one year where it was a desert that turned into a tundra!"

"My sister won that year," I say, fiddling with bending the wire into a proper shape.

"You're Terra Coppersmith's sister? I didn't know!" the trainer says, her face lighting up. "She's always been one of my favorite victors, and it's too bad she's never come to the Capitol before this year!"

"She's always stayed home to take care of me," I tell her, holding the fish hook out for inspection.

"Well that's very nice of her, isn't it?"

"It was." I wonder what would happen if I won this year, with Terra already being a victor. Would I get my own house, even though I'm only thirteen? Would I come to the Capitol every year with Terra? If I win, I'll be the youngest victor in history. Nobody under fifteen has ever won the Games.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" the trainer says as the bell rings, signifying the end of the training day. Tomorrow we just have the morning to train, and tomorrow afternoon, after lunch, we have our private sessions.

"What's your name?" I ask the instructor. She doesn't look or sound Capitol either. Are the instructors from the districts?

"Cossutia," she says with a smile. Her name could be Capitol or District 2; it's hard to tell.

"I'll see you," I say, smiling back at her, and I head for the elevators.

I don't get on the elevator with Azlon; he ends up going ahead of me with the tributes from 12 and 5. The Careers went up together, of course, before the rest of us had a chance to even reach the elevators.

The next time the doors open, I slip through the remaining tributes and get in, alongside Tilling and Reaper from 9, and the pair from District 10 that I don't know the names of. The ride up is uncomfortable; Tilling watches the wall with the buttons on it and hums all the way up, and the other three don't say anything. Luckily, I get off first, being from District 8.

Even though I turned Tilling down as an ally, she waves at me, still humming. I give a little wave back, then the doors shut and the elevator carries on up.

"So, you're back, are you?" I turn around to see Woof standing a few feet away.

"I'm back. Where's Terra?" I ask, swinging my arms back and forth, trying to get the soreness out of them.

"Out."

"Out? Where out?" I ask. Why isn't she here?

"She'll tell you later, I'm sure. Shuttle and Woven have gone as well; I figured I should stay behind and wait for the two of you to make your ways up."

"Thanks."

"And if you're wondering where the moron is, he's off with Terra and the others," Woof continues. I giggle a little when he calls Postumius that; nobody likes our escort.

Woof's hands are rarely still; one's picking at the seams of his pants, the other's running through his hair. His face is blank, but he's just one big ball of anxiety.

"You're not my mentor, so I can't tell you anything about what I did today, can I?" I say.

"You can if you want; you won't explode."

"I finished the obstacle course without falling," I tell him. Woof cracks a rare smile.

"Did you now? That's something for a girl as young as you." He motions for me to come closer, and when I do, he leans in to whisper something in my ear.

"I'm not supposed to pick a favorite that isn't my own tribute, but I think you have a chance. We'll get you home." With that, he pulls back and nods. "If you did as well as you say you did today, you won't be unnoticed for long. Give them all you got tomorrow, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, sir," I say. Woof, who never smiles and never seems to show any kind of emotion towards his tributes, thinks I can win! Even though I'm tired, I feel like dancing around.

"Sir?" Woof chuckles deep in his throat. "I'm no sir. I hear that enough from the Capitol bobbleheads that I have to talk to every year. It's Woof, girl. You hear me? Woof."

"Yes sir- Woof."

"That's more like it. You go lie down now, girl. Your sister will come wake you up when she gets back."

"Okay."

I pass two red-clothed servants on my way to my room; Woven calls them Avoxes, and supposedly they're Capitol traitors that had their tongues cut out. I can't believe that somebody could be so horrible as to do that, but none of the servants have spoken yet. I'd hate to think it's true. If I did something bad enough while I'm here, would they turn me into an Avox? The idea is terrifying, even more terrifying than going into the arena.

How many days do I have left in the Capitol? Flopping down on my bed, the soft bed that rivals my own at home, I count them. There's tomorrow with the last day of training, then apparently, I get coached for my interviews (Terra told me), then it's the day of the interviews, and then… the arena.

Three days left.

The thought hangs over me even as I fall into a deeply exhausted sleep. Three days.

** Terra Coppersmith **

I force myself to laugh at the woman's jokes, even though they're not funny in the slightest. I hate standing up here on this rooftop, in one of the tallest buildings in the Capitol. Shuttle's off somewhere else, and the same goes for Woven. I see Postumius every once in a while, trying to convince skeptical guests that his tributes are the best this year, and they should sponsor them.

"And then I told him, what are you going to do with all those feathers?" the pink dyed woman says, taking a sip from her dainty champagne glass. "Do you want to know what he said?" Without waiting for an answer, she launches back into, "I'm going to decorate the whole apartment with them! And I told him, what about the cats? The cats will tear them to pieces!"

Other Capitol idiots laugh along with the story, dull as it is. Is this what they spend their times doing when the Games aren't on? Suddenly I'm glad I grew up in District 8. We may not be the richest district, or the most interesting district, but the majority of us have a brain in our heads.

Forcing myself to laugh, I turn the conversation to what I came here for in the first place. "Mrs. Mensa," I start, but she pats me on the arm.

"Please, call me Cordelia!" She chuckles and sips more of her champagne. "Server!" she calls, and a red-clothed Avox runs up with a bottle, refilling Cordelia's glass. The Avox avoids our eyes as she pours, before scurrying away.

"Now, what were you going to tell me?" Cordelia asks, sipping again.

"My sister is District 8's girl tribute this year," I say, trying to sound pleased. "It's a wonderful honor to my family, and I think she's going to have the best chance in the whole Games of winning."

"How old is she again?"

"Thirteen, and when she wins, she'll be the youngest victor in Hunger Games history," I say, taking a sip from my own glass. While I would like to see the woman drunk, I had a servant pour sparkling water into my own cup. I want to be sharp if I'm going to get sponsors for Iry.

"I understand that you sponsored me in my Games," I continue, "And I believe you saved my life with the gifts that you made possible." I smile at her sweetly. "I would love to see you have the ability to say you saved the lives of two victors."

"Oh, Terra, you're very sweet," Cordelia says, patting me on the cheek. "And I'd love to sponsor your sister, but she's so young. Nobody's won at thirteen yet." She hiccups.

"Iry's going to be the first," I say firmly. "Imagine, being able to say you sponsored two victors, sisters, and one of them the youngest in history." Whether I'm actually being persuasive, or if it's just the champagne making it easy to convince her, Cordelia pauses to think about it.

"And you're sure she'll win?"

"Nobody is better than my sister."

Cordelia breaks out in a huge, manic smile, revealing gem incrusted teeth. "Oh, of course I'll sponsor her, dear girl!" She grabs my hand and shakes it hard, beaming. "Let's go sign the papers right away. Where's that escort of yours?"

"My fellow victor has the papers, actually," I say. By lucky coincidence, Shuttle is making her way through the crowd towards me, a false smile plastered on her face.

"Shuttle!" I say, waving her over. Acting is making me tired, but we still have an hour before we can leave. I wish I was back home in District 8, with Iry. Safe.

Shuttle approaches, holding a champagne glass of her own. "Mrs. Mensa here has agreed to sponsor Iry," I say, as cheerfully as I can.

"How wonderful!" Shuttle says; I know her well, and that tone is false cheeriness. I know tonight she has an 'engagement' somewhere else in the Capitol, and she'd rather be anywhere but here.

Quickly, she takes out the sponsor papers. Drunkenly, Cordelia signs where she has to, then pats my cheek. "Do make sure she wins, won't you?" she says, then totters away.

"Iry's a tough one to sell," Shuttle mutters in my ear. "If she was a year or two older it would be easier, but her age is going against her."

I grip Shuttle's arm. "Iry's coming home, no matter what. I don't care what I have to do or who I have to kill," I say in a low voice. I came to terms a long time ago with who I killed in the arena. They haunt my dreams, and my flashbacks when I have them, but to save Iry I would kill them all again, and every person in the Capitol too.

"Let's not kill anyone," Shuttle says, loosening my grip on her arm. "Woven's getting sponsors for Azlon, since he's her tribute, and she's doing well. I got Elagabalus Creed to sign over a good deal of money, and now you have Cordelia's sponsorship. Once the scores come out, then the betting and sponsorship will really start. And after the interviews too."

"What are you talking about?" Postumius says, suddenly throwing his arms around us drunkenly. "Isn't this a great party?"

"Get off me," I say, shoving the escort off. He stumbles sideways before catching himself and going upright again.

"Go bother someone else," Shuttle says, walking away through the crowd of Capitolites, all chattering away in their high-pitched accents. Postumius makes a movement to come after me, which is when I duck out, moving quickly through the people to get as far away as possible from the idiot.

"Terra!" Who's calling me? Someone taps me on the shoulder and I'm face to face with a man who's about my height, with blue streaked hair pulled back into a ponytail. He's familiar, but where have I seen him before?

"Do you remember me?" he asks pleasantly. "We met at the ball in the President's Mansion, at the conclusion of your Tour." It clicks.

"Aero?" I ask, breaking out into a proper smile. He was the only sane one at that party, and he reminded me of Fletcher. He still does, actually, and it makes my heart ache.

"The very same," he says, taking my hand and kissing it gently. "Where is your beautiful mentor?"

"I'm afraid that Woof didn't join us today," I say slyly.

Aero laughs. "I wouldn't like to kiss him, I'm afraid."

I laugh too. "Shuttle just dodged an attack from Postumius, our demented escort. Shall I go find her?"

"No, she'll make her way to you eventually. Tell me, how have you been? It's been four years since anyone's seen anything of you, besides brief clips at the reapings."

My face falls as I try to find the proper words. "I-I've been doing better. Except now, it's my sister who's been reaped."

"I saw. Terra, I'm so sorry."

"She's going to be the victor," I say, straightening up. "There's no other option. I need her to win."

"Of course she's going to be the victor," Aero says reassuringly. "I wouldn't lie to you, Terra. I'm a man of my word. And, listen." He leans in further to me. "I'm not a rich man by any means, but I'd like to sponsor your sister. For you, and for Shuttle."

"Would you?" I ask. I start rubbing the fingers of my left hand against the stump that was once a finger on my right; it's the motion I make when I'm nervous or unsure. "Would you really?"

"I can't promise much, but it will help, I hope," Aero says.

"I-I can't thank you enough!" I say.

"Thank me by bringing your sister home," he says, smiling.

"I'll have to get the papers; Shuttle has them."

"Aero Carter, you rascal!" another man says, coming and slapping Aero on the shoulder. "Where's your drink at?"

"Julio Carsied, long time no see!" Aero says. "Nobody's given me a drink yet, and it's a pity!"

The man called Julio, who has tattoos snaking up his neck and curling around his eyebrows, calls for a server to bring drinks; within seconds an Avox has appeared with a tray.

Picking a glass up, Aero says, "I've just agreed to be the sponsor for Iry Coppersmith of District 8, did you know, Julio? A victor's sister!"

"That's betting dangerously," Julio says, sipping his drink. "Aren't you afraid you'll just waste your money?"

"Not at all," Aero says smoothly. "I have every confidence that Iry can win, aided by her mentor and sister, Terra." He gestures to me, and I smile at the older man who is now looking at me with interest. "In fact, Terra was just going to get the sponsorship papers now, weren't you?"

"I was," I say, backing up. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carsied." Before he has a chance to answer, I push through the crowd, looking for Shuttle.

I'm surrounded by cackling Capitolites, like a wall of garishly colored birds. I'd bet most of them are drunk by now, or at the very least tipsy. At one point I see Woven talking to a tall woman in blue, but someone else walks in front and I lose sight of her.

Finally, I find Shuttle, standing off to one side, looking through the papers in her hand. "Shuttle!" I say, pushing up close to her.

"Any luck?" she says without looking up.

"Aero Carter is here and he's going to sponsor Iry," I mutter in her ear. Shuttle's head jerks up and her cheeks flush pink.

"Aero, here?" I nod. "Take me to him then."

It's easier than I thought it would be to find Aero; he's still talking to Julio Carsied when Shuttle and I approach. A spark of something travels between Aero and Shuttle when they see each other, and my usually level-headed mentor is bright pink.

"Shuttle Caries," Aero says, taking her hand and kissing it as well. "I understand that you have the sponsorship papers?"

"I do." Shuttle's voice is surprisingly calm.

"You'll need two of them, as I've just convinced Julio here to sponsor your tribute as well." I look at Aero in surprise, and he winks at me.

"Don't let this be a waste of my money now," Julio says, wagging his finger at me.

"I won't sir, I won't at all," I tell him. Shuttle brings the papers out, and Aero and Julio sign them, one pledging a modest amount of money, the other an obscene amount.

"Good luck now!" Julio says before wandering away, just like Cordelia did. Once he's gone, Aero grabs Shuttle's hands in his.

"It's not safe here; there's too many people who know me," she says quietly.

"Then I will come to you," Aero says simply.

"I have an engagement tonight," Shuttle says, and she doesn't quite meet his eyes when she says it.

"I will come in the early hours," he says, clasping Shuttle's hand tighter. "And I shall be discreet, don't worry. The rooftop, five in the morning. I will see you then, I hope."

With that, he bows briefly to both of us and strides away, mixing in with the crowd. Almost as soon as he's gone, Woven appears at my elbow, scaring me.

"We can go," she says.

"Finally," I say, and follow her off the rooftop.

"It was a success today if I say so myself," Woven says as we step into the elevator of the Training Center. "I lined up several sponsors for Azlon. And for Iry?"

"Cordelia Mensa, Elagabalus Creed, Aero Carter, and Julio Caried all lined up," Shuttle says proudly.

"Oh, well done," Woven says. The doors open onto our floor, and the familiar surroundings both comfort me and bring back painful memories.

"How did you do?" Woof says, stepping around the corner.

"Sponsors lined up around the block," Woven says, kicking off her shoes.

"Good," Woof says. "Your sister is asleep in her room, but I told her you would see her when you got home, Terra."

Taking off my own shoes, I set them down and rush for Iry's room. This was the second day of training; how did she do? Is she still unnoticed by the Careers? Is she okay?

I push open the door and see my sister asleep on her bed, her face peaceful. She's so young. Three years younger than I was when I came here for the first time. She's going to be thrown into an arena, where everyone will want to see her dead. My sister!

Memories of her growing up flood my brain. I've been mother and sister to her my whole life. I touch the ring hanging on a chain that I've been wearing around my neck since my Games; it was my token in the arena. Iry gave it to me when I left District 8. The ring belonged to my mother, before she died. Leaving me and Iry motherless.

In my mind, I see Iry as a toddler, as a happy six-year old with braids, as the eight-year-old I left behind, and as the nine-year-old who played on the hill of the cemetery as I grieved; who was always so happy and good. If my sister is to win the Games, she's going to have to change. Who is she going to become when she comes out of the arena?

Iry stirs and I go to sit on her bed near her. "Terra?" she says sleepily.

"I'm back. How was training?"

"Really good!" Iry says, waking up properly. "I ran the obstacle course in four minutes, and I didn't even fall off!"

"Good job! What did the others have to say about that?"

Iry giggles a little. "Not much. The boy from 7 fell off before I ran it, and he was amazed I think."

"How about allies? Did anyone offer?" I ask. Iry's not a solitary girl, but I don't want her to have allies in the arena. I don't want her to be attached to them like I was; I want her solely focused on getting herself out alive.

I don't want her to have a Fletcher that haunts her every step.

"The girl from 9, Tilling, wanted to team up today, but she's wanted to team up with everyone," she says, rolling her eyes. "She's so desperate. Don't worry, I turned her down."

"You're a solo worker," I say, hugging my sister.

"Yup!" Iry laughs again. "Oh, and I did fish hooks and snares and slingshots; I'm getting good at some stuff."

"Good job! I'm proud of you!" I think back to my days in Training; how I learned to shoot a bow in just three days and got a 7 for it. I also remember how I dropped my bow in the arena once my hands were too cold to grip it- no! No flashbacks today, Terra. Not today.

"The Careers made a mess of the shelter station though," Iry says, leaning against me. "They're annoying."

"They'll get less annoying when it's a District 8 girl wearing the crown again," I tell her.

"Terra?" she asks, and her tone has suddenly changed.

"Yeah?"

"Am I going to have to kill them?"

_"I don't want a weapon. I don't want to hurt anyone," Fletcher says._

_"Are you saying you're not going to kill anyone?"_

_"If I can help it, no, I won't kill anyone. I'm not going to hurt my soul like that."_

Fletcher's words from the Games come back to me now, and it's like I can hear him speaking them. I hold Iry tighter against me.

"I don't know," I say, breathing out. "I don't know. You're going to hide as long as you can, like I did. And maybe you can get away with not killing anyone. But I don't know."

"I don't want to kill them," Iry says, almost in a whisper. "They're nice, most of them. Some of the other tributes are younger than me."

"Hide. Hide and watch the faces in the sky until the last day. You can outwait them all," I say. "You're quick, and you're clever, and I'll take care of you."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I got some sponsors lined up for you today!" Iry looks at me, smiling wide.

"Really? Is that why you were out?"

"I was at a Capitol party, getting you some sponsors. Don't worry, everything will be just fine."

"And you promise?" Iry says, looking at me full in the face. I hug her tight again.

"I promise. I'll always take care of you. Always."


	12. Troublemakers

** Eleanor 'Nell' Slatefield **

"I'm not going to bother to tell you what to do in your private sessions," Seeder says over a cup of coffee. "I doubt you would listen to me anyway."

"You're probably right," I say, biting into my piece of toast that's been slathered with cinnamon sugar. I can't get over the food here; everything is so good. And so much! Sugar is outrageously expensive in District 11; Auntie buys a small sack of it maybe once a month, once every two months, and rations it.

But here, I can eat all the sugar I want to, and I will.

"Just, both of you, go out and do your best. Try to get higher than a four, alright?" Seeder says.

"You just watch; I'll get a twelve," I say through a mouthful of toast.

"Chew, Nell. And if you get a twelve, you'll make history. Don't get too high a score and put a target on your back."

I stuff the last of the toast in my mouth, chew, and swallow, brushing the crumbs off my shirt. Taizy looks over at me with her mouth half open. She's still horrified over the fact that I haven't worn shoes the whole time I've been in the Capitol. I don't see the point of wearing them when I've gone barefoot my whole life.

"I'm going down. Trestle's going to be expecting me," I say, pushing my chair backwards and standing up. Lotem stands up too. He doesn't talk a lot, but seems nice enough. I don't know; I don't talk to him much.

"Good luck," Seeder says. "And we'll see you tonight."

The journey down the elevator is short but quiet. As we reach the bottom, Lotem looks at me and says, "Are you nervous?"

"Heck no!" I say, and the doors open. Like the first day, the other tributes are standing in a circle around Titus, who seems to be waiting for everyone to get there. Unlike the first day, though, nobody is standing in their district order; instead, the others are arranged by alliance. There's the Careers, the girls from 3 and 7, the girl from 5 and the boy from 12, and Trestle, who is waving to me.

"Finally!" he says, throwing his arm around my neck.

"Get off me," I say, pushing him so he falls into the girl next to him; the eighteen-year-old from his district. Mariana, I guess her name is.

"Aw, don't be that way, Nell. You know you love me," Trestle says, pushing me slightly back. He's become an ally and a friend; someone who isn't afraid to make trouble. The past few days have been fantastic, and I don't care what the others think of me. I want to make some trouble too.

The last two tributes arrive; Byron and Brierre from 10. Whenever I see them, I think about their ridiculous Chariot costumes. Their cow and cowboy getup was even worse than my half-missing outfit.

"Welcome tributes to the third day of training," Titus says, bringing our attention forward. "You will have the morning to train, until the lunch bell rings. After lunch, you will be called to the gymnasium one by one for your private sessions, where you will perform whatever skills you like to the Gamemakers. Please state your name and district when you enter. Are there any questions?"

Trestle puts his hand up almost immediately. "What if I don't want to go in when I'm called?" he says with a smirk.

"Then you will receive no score and your sponsorship opportunities will plummet. I highly recommend you take part in the private sessions. Anyone else?"

Everyone else stays silent, so Titus says, "You are free to go."

The rest of the tributes scatter, but Trestle and I stay put, looking at each other. "So, where are we headed today?" he asks.

"Let's go weave some hammocks; it's easy," I say.

"You want easy today?" Trestle says, feigning shock. "On the day that will define our lives?"

"Yeah, let's go." I start walking away towards the deserted hammock station. Trestle jogs after me.

"I want to go on the obstacle course again today and beat my time," he says.

"You can, but I'm not going to. I want to try the ropes. Besides, Celosia is already there." The girl from 12 is attacking the obstacle course with a ferocity I didn't know she had.

"Are you going to weave some hammocks?" a pleasant voice says; I look down to see a woman trainer sitting on the ground in the dirt floor section of the gymnasium.

"Yup!" I say, sitting down beside her. Trestle reluctantly comes to sit down next to me. The instructor hands us some rope and gives us instructions, then leaves us to it.

While I tie knots, Trestle argues with the ends of the rope, trying to make it look like the instructor's.

"Why don't you wear shoes?" he asks suddenly.

"Never owned any."

"What about in winter?"

"We don't get cold down in District 11," I say. "It's usually hot down there, and if it does get chilly, then you tie rags around your feet and deal with it."

"So nobody wears shoes in District 11?" Trestle asks, disbelievingly.

"Roots girls like me don't, that's for sure. The girls from town wear them, 'cause they can afford them. I don't like shoes; they trip you up. And you need a good grip on the trees when you're harvesting."

I look up at my ally, who's still fiddling with the rope. "How about you? You don't talk much about your life in 6."

"Not much to tell," he says.

"Who's your family?"

"Don't got any."

"Then who's watching you at home?"

Trestle laughs. "The Peacekeepers that were coming after me the day of the reaping. You should have seen their faces when I got picked. Lucky break for me, wasn't it?"

"What did you do?" I ask.

"I stole something, and they didn't like it." Trestle shrugs. "They wouldn't have been able to catch me anyways. I'm too quick for them." He drops the rope and flexes his muscles. "I've been dodging the 'keepers since I was a kid. They've never once been able to catch me. They call me the Weasel sometimes, 'cause I've slipped by the 'keepers so many times."

"Who's they?" I ask, tying another row of knots.

"The gang I run with. I'm not going to say their names; that's the rule you know. You don't tell who's in the gang, or you'll wake up with a knife in your eye. I've seen it happen," he says nonchalantly.

"So I've made allies with a gang member," I say.

"Hey, you made the best choice," Trestle says, holding his arms out. "You can't get a better ally than me, Nell! Look at me, I'm a prime specimen."

"Sure you are," I say, laughing. "Here, the hammocks' half done. You want to keep going?"

"Absolutely not. I'm bored out of my mind," Trestle says, jumping up and shoving the ropes off his lap at the same time. "12 girl's running the course again; let's go run around above everyone and throw stuff at them."

Trestle runs ahead of me, dropping by the edible plants and berries station and scooping up a handful of nuts.

"You can't just take those!" the instructor calls after him, shaking her head as he sprints away. The girl from 9, Tilling, watches Trestle and then me go by with wide eyes. She tried to team up with us on the first day, but Trestle shot her down pretty fast. Looks like everyone else did too.

I sprint after Trestle and catch up to him at the base of one of the hanging ropes that lead up to the net above. "Where are you going to put those?" I ask, pointing to the nuts he's holding in one hand.

"I have pockets, don't you?" he says, shoving the three-cornered nuts into a hidden pocket of his pants.

"No, I didn't wear pants with pockets today."

"I'll carry them then. Race you to the top!" Trestle says, starting up his rope. I grab another nearby rope, with knots in regular intervals. Climbing trees all my life has given me an edge, so I make it to the top before Trestle. It's a close one, though; he's quick too.

"Where'd you learn to climb like that?" I ask, pulling myself up through a hole in the netting.

"Shimmying up buildings and the like," he says, pulling himself up next to me. "The streets aren't safe for the Weasel, you know."

"What's it like in District 6? You never hear anything about other districts," I say, looking down below us at the other tributes going about their business, not even realizing we're up here. I know so little about my own district, even. It's the Capitol and their Peacekeepers; they want to keep us in the dark about each other so the Dark Days will never pop up again.

"The 'keepers are everywhere; and they'll whip a person for no reason sometimes, just for fun. They've been trying to nab me for years but they're just too slow," Trestle says proudly. "Kill a few people a month just to remind us that they can. They nabbed a kid from my gang last year and shot him."

"They do that sometimes in 11 too," I say. "Only not so much killing because they need us all to harvest the crops. They'll throw you in the stocks too if you don't work hard enough."

"Who are we going to pelt first?" Trestle says, dropping his voice and changing the subject abruptly.

"Hope you have a good arm 'cause I can't throw well if the target's far away. I should grab a slingshot; I'm superb with one of those," I say.

"Already nabbed one when you weren't looking," Trestle says, handing me the wooden slingshot he brings out of almost nowhere. He grins at me.

"Give me a nut," I say, holding my hand out; Trestle drops one into my palm. "I'm going to get a Career. Which one?"

"The blonde one, the girl."

I load the slingshot, aim, and fire. Anyone in District 11 can shoot a slingshot; we bring down birds who are swarming the fields with them sometimes. Easy to make and easy to hide, plus the Peacekeepers don't count them as weapons as long as you don't shoot at them. I have a slingshot at home that Uncle made me a few years ago.

Rosa better not take it while I'm gone.

Right on target, the nut bounces off the girl's head. Trestle stifles a laugh as she whirls around, looking for her attacker. Of course, she can't see us up here in the net. "Who did that? I'll kill whoever did that!" she shrieks, holding her head.

I cover my mouth and try not to laugh as almost everyone freezes down below, watching the Career girl yell and look around. Nobody is holding a slingshot down there, making it all the more confusing for her.

"Get someone else," Trestle whispers, passing me another nut. I spy the weak boy from 12, sitting at the fish hooks station. I aim for him, and fire. Like the first one, this nut bounces off his head. Bewildered, he looks around, but doesn't shriek like the Career girl is doing.

The boy from 4 talks to the girl quietly, making her calm down and be quiet. She still looks angry, though.

"Shoot her again," Trestle says, snickering. I load and fire again, but the net moves under me slightly as Trestle shifts, throwing my aim off. This nut bounces off the Career girl's arm this time.

It takes her district partner and the boy from 4 to hold her back from going after the only person near the slingshot station; the twelve-year-old from 5. He looks terrified and scurries backwards, even though he's not the one shooting.

Trestle flops down on his back and shakes with silent laughter. "That was brilliant," he says between breaths. "I didn't know the girl had it in her. Turns out she's got some fire."

"Is that a good thing?" I ask, watching her get calmed down by her allies and a nearby instructor.

"Hey, if she's giving them a show, then the Weasel can get away and start his own show on the opposite side of the arena," he says, all grins. His shaggy black hair falls over his eyes and he brushes it away.

"I'm coming with you to put on the show, right?" I say.

"'Course. I need my co-star, don't I?" Trestle sits up. "We'll be the stars of the Games, you'll see Nell. They'll be falling over each other to sponsor us. Think about it; who's going to give them a better show; you and me or the pair from 10? Dull as dust. We've got a chance."

He opens his mouth to say more, but before he can, he moves just enough that the nuts fall out of his pocket and clatter onto the floor below. Trestle and I both freeze; if they didn't know we were up here before, they will now.

"Hey, who's up there?" some instructor calls. We sit perfectly still. We can see down but they can't see up, and after a few minutes, the attention fades and everyone goes back to what they were doing.

"What do you want to practice for today?" I ask Trestle.

"Sleeping," he says, lying back down and closing his eyes.

"I want to do more survival skills," I tell him.

"You're ace at edible plants," he says, eyes still closed. "You can light a fire forwards and backwards, and we can both make a decent shelter. I think you'll be fine."

"Then I want to try Camouflage," I say. "Do some more painting like yesterday."

Trestle cracks one eye open. "You did Camouflage yesterday, and you were shit at it, remember that? I don't think you're going to improve in an hour."

"Aren't you supposed to be my ally and boosting me up?" I say, folding my arms and feigning hurt.

"I'm going to keep you alive, Nell, not lie to you," he says, closing his eyes again. "What's something you haven't done yet?"

"Archery," I say immediately.

"So go try some shooting action and let me sleep. I want to be well rested when I go in and impress the Gamemakers with my good looks."

"What good looks?" I tease.

"I'll leave you to the Careers if you don't go shoot some arrows, Nell."

"Fine. I'll see you at lunch."

"Shoot straight."

I go down the rope hand over hand and drop down to the hard floor below. I'm happy to see that everyone else is too preoccupied with their own training to notice me going over to archery. When I look up, I can't even see Trestle; that's how good the camouflage of the net is.

I wasn't that bad at camouflage yesterday. Well, alright, maybe my tree bark I painted on my arm looked a bit shoddy and like tan lines, but that's beside the point.

The archery station starts a long way away from the wall with the targets. There's five or six simple bullseye targets set up, and some fabric dummies full of holes too. Near where I am, there's a rack of bows, and another rack of quivers full of arrows.

The forgettable girl from 5, Hazel, is a few feet away from me, shooting tentative arrows at a target; her straight brown hair keeps falling in her face as she shoots.

"Are you wanting to work here?" the instructor, a young woman with dark hair pulled back into a severe ponytail, says.

"Yeah."

"Let's get you set up, then," she says without smiling. Plucking a bow and a quiver off their racks, she hands the bow to me.

She shows me how to stand, how to hold the bow properly, and how to nock the arrow. My first shots go nowhere near the target. "It takes time," the instructor says. "The Capitol wasn't built in a day, you know." I wish it had been if it means I get to aim better, and faster. After a half hour or so, I'm still not aiming any better than when I started. My next arrow hits the wall above the target; just slightly above where I've been aiming. I groan, throwing my head back in frustration.

Hazel looks over at me nervously; her next shot flies up and hits the wall near the ceiling. "Nice going!" someone jeers behind us; one of the Careers, I think. I don't particularly care for the girl next to me, but I hate the Careers with a passion.

Whirling around, I nock an arrow and let it fly in the direction of the heckler. It's the boy from 2, standing a distance away; when he sees my arrow coming, he ducks; the rest of the Careers scatter. The arrow lodges in the wall behind them, on the farthest side from me. Honestly, I didn't know I had that sort of power in me.

"What the hell?" the boy yells, straightening up again, furious.

"The next time you laugh, I'll put an arrow through your eye!" I yell back at him, brandishing my now empty bow.

The big blond boy from 1 starts coming towards me, hands clenched into fists. The boy from 2 opens his mouth to shout at me again, but shuts it. Guess he thinks his ally will take care of me better than his jeers will. I don't move. I just stand there and look the District 1 boy right in the eye as he approaches.

"You're dead, you know that?" he says in an angrily calm voice, pointing at me. "As soon as that gong goes, you're dead."

"I doubt you can move fast enough to catch me."

A black shape drops down from the ceiling behind him as I keep staring the Career boy down. Every eye in the place is riveted to us. The tension between us is incredible; it's a silent standoff between me and a Career. I'm not sure who's going to make the first move.

"No fighting between tributes!" Titus shouts, coming over and in between the boy and me, breaking up the tension slightly.

"Cloak, let her go! She's not worth it!" the Career boy's district partner shouts; the girl I shot with nuts earlier today.

"That's it, break it up! And we don't shoot arrows outside the range, is that understood?" Titus says, loud enough for the whole gymnasium to hear.

"You're dead," Cloak says, pointing at me and backing up at the same time. Before I can respond, he trips backwards on something. In a blur, his pants are pulled down around his ankles; his attacker is up a rope before the Career can react.

The girl from 2 lets out a sharp peal of laughter; a couple of the lesser tributes are stifling their own laughter.

"Shouldn't mess with us," I say smugly. "It won't end well for you." Cloak pulls his pants up again; beet red and looking like an angry bull. "You're not going to catch me and kill me, Cloak." With that, I turn and take another arrow from the bewildered instructor and shoot again, this time hitting the top of the target.

"Cloak, get over here!" I look to see him pause, glaring at me for a second more, then he stomps away back to his group.

My own ally drops down from his rope perch and saunters over to me. "Looks like you're not shit at archery. My congratulations on that. Pity you didn't shoot him," he says, grinning. Titus gives the two of us a long, disapproving look, before going back to talk to another instructor.

"I couldn't have gotten away with that," I say, grinning myself. I nock another arrow and shoot again; this one strays far away from the target. "I like your style."

"Hey, the Weasel can do anything! You need a person gotten rid of, I'm your man! I can steal anything, slip in anywhere- I'm your classic jack of all trades!"

"Do that to a Gamemaker today and you'll get a twelve," I tell him.

"I just might have to," Trestle says, looking very pleased with himself. "Since you're not terrible at the arrows, let me show you what I can do with a knife."

"You showed me the first day."

"I didn't show you the whole shebang. You didn't think I would give away all my secrets right away, did you?" Trestle folds his arms. "I didn't know I could really trust you on Day one. Now it's you and me against the world, and I can show you what I can do. Let's go, Nell."

"Fine." I hand my bow back to the instructor, and that's when I see Hazel, frozen with a bow in her hand, looking at me. If I didn't know better, I would say her eyes are shining. I guess seeing the Careers brought down to human level would put the pep into anyone, wouldn't you say?

Trestle's at the throwing knives by the time I catch up to him; he moves fast. On the way over, I turn a cartwheel, earning a few more glares from the Careers across the room. I don't care; they'll never catch me. But what does my ally want to show me that he hasn't already? It's about a half hour to lunch, and then Training is going to be over.

"Just watch this," he says, grabbing a handful of black handled knives. In swift succession, he throws two at the same time, spins, throws another at a different target, another two at some dummies, then rolls and throws his last knife.

Every single blade finds either a bullseye or a dummy's heart. My mouth drops open. When he showed me his knife skills two days ago, it was mediocre at best. This- this is something else altogether.

"Where'd you learn to throw like that?" I ask. Trestle smirks and shrugs.

"When you're on the street, you have a lot of time on your hands. We like to throw knives at buildings to pass the time, you know. Comes in handy when you got to take out a rival." Trestle grabs another knife and throws it at the farthest target; it sticks directly in the center. "After a while, you get good."

"Well I know what you're doing for the Gamemakers," I say.

"What're you going to do? If you say hammock making, the alliance is officially over," Trestle says.

"I'll figure something out. Can you throw a knife into the handle of a previously thrown one?" I ask.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Trestle takes two knives, juggles them briefly, then throws one after another. The first sticks in the board, the second lodges in the handle of the first. "I can," he says, turning to me.

I've been watching the others cycle through the different stations, and the only person in this whole gymnasium that can hold a candle to Trestle's knife throwing is the girl from 2, Agrippina, and maybe her district partner. But Trestle's better than all of them.

"I'm impressed," I admit.

"I knew you would be," Trestle says, throwing an arm around my neck and leading me on a walk around the gym. "Take it all in, Nell, 'cause this is the second to last time you ever set foot in this place. Good riddance if you ask me."

What would Auntie think of him, or Rosa? They would be appalled. Excellent; it just makes me like Trestle more. We're going to cause the Capitol so much trouble, and I love it.

"Found one more," Trestle says, pulling out a nut and twirling it in his fingers. "Whoopsie!" He drops it down the neck of the small girl from 8, who glares at him as we go by. "Bloodbath bait," he mutters.

The bell rings for lunch; the Careers, in normal fashion, take off running for the dining hall. "Shall we join our dear friends?" Trestle asks.

"I think we should," I say. "Bring some nuts to lunch."

"I think she's packing them away," he says, pointing to the woman from the edible plants station, eyeing us warily.

"I'm hungry; let's just go to lunch," I say, taking Trestle's arm from around my neck. "Race you!"

Shoving past some of the other tributes, I do a cartwheel, turn upright again, and dash into the dining hall ahead of the rest.

What do we have for lunch today? Grabbing a tray, I pick up some chicken in a curry sauce, rice, some exotically colored fruit, and some little lemon tarts for dessert. The Capitol has outdone themselves today. I did like those meringues they had the other day; I wish they had more of those. Maybe I'll ask the machine in my room to give me some tonight.

I take a seat and wait for my ally. In the meantime, I watch the others file in and take their food; most of them so serious. So nervous about their tests coming up. Loosen up and cheer up a little!

Trestle joins me at our usual table just as I bite into the lemon tart.

"You are what you eat, I've heard," he says, sitting down.

"Shut up and eat these; they are SO good." I put the rest into my mouth and chew happily.

Trestle takes a chunk of chicken and turns it over and over on his fork. "I wonder who this chicken was."

"Does it matter?" I eat a bite of chicken next; the pieces are huge, and I love it. "Whoever it was tastes good."

"Is that how they'll remember me?" Trestle says, leaning forward and putting on a pondering expression. "When I'm dead, will they only think, 'he tasted good?'"

"Isn't eating fellow tributes against the rules?" I ask, taking another bite. The rice is rich and good too. My compliments to whoever makes this stuff.

"Nothing's against the rules in the Hunger Games," Trestle says. "Hell, if I had the proper tools and time, I could stuff every single tribute in this room and put them in my Victor's Village house."

"That's horrible."

He shrugs. "And also time consuming. I wouldn't stuff you, though."

"You could stuff me with this chicken; it's fantastic," I say.

"I'll keep that in mind for the arena," Trestle says. We don't talk much after that; the food is too delicious to talk over. I'm not sure how I'm going to go into the arena after eating like this for a week. I'll probably be fat by the time I get there, and I'm just fine with that.

"The Private Sessions are beginning," a robotic sounding woman says over the intercom. I look up, startled. "Cloak Greysong, please come to the gymnasium."

"That's begun," Trestle says, barely glancing up.

Cloak gets up and walks out the door, after being cheered on by his allies. Suddenly my chicken is hard to swallow; I have a long time to wait before my own session, but still.

"You'll be fine," Trestle says.

"I know."

So why am I nervous all of a sudden?


	13. Give them a Show

** Astrid Clearwater **

"Dominicus Sorce."

The short boy from 2 gets up, says a quiet wisecrack to his comrades, then leaves the room, just like the tributes from 1 did before him. Soon it will be my turn.

"Corinna should have sent your mentor the formal paperwork last night," Elowyn says quietly. "Did you get it?"

"Yes." I take a bite of the chicken they've served for lunch, but I hardly taste it.

"Then it's settled. We're formal allies," Elowyn says.

"We are." Tentative allies to be sure, but allies nevertheless. Elowyn won me over during the past day and a half; she's turned out to be funny, as well as being capable and smart.

"Are you going do what we practiced in your session?" she says low. I shake my head.

"I don't want the others to know," I say.

She nods. "Understandable."

"I have an idea what you're going to do," I say, taking another bite. She's from 7, which means she's excellent with an axe. She's been giving me pointers on how to throw one better, and I've learned more from her than from the instructors.

"I'll bet you do. What score are you aiming for?"

"As high as I'm able to get. District 3 has a reputation I'm trying to shake," I say.

"And your partner?" she asks, indicating toward Circuit who's blinking as usual and tapping his fingers on the table in the corner.

"We're from 3, that's all my connection is to him," I say. "He's not going to last long, I don't think." I take another bite, this time actually tasting the spiciness of the dish. "What about you and your district partner?"

Elowyn rolls her eyes. "He can use an axe alright, but he's weak and always has been. He's supposed to work in the woods like the rest of us, but you'll usually find him with a book instead."

"Bookworms technically don't do well in the Games, do they?" I say. Elowyn shakes her head.

"It's like you District 3 tributes; smarts only get you so far; you need to be able to do some damage." She looks at me closely. "You're not like the rest of them, or like any District 3 tribute I've seen on television. You look like you come from 2 or 5 or something."

 _Or from the Capitol itself_ , I think. Plenty people here have red hair. Could my father have been from here? I don't dare tell Elowyn that my father could be a Peacekeeper. There's no way to know without my mother here, anyway. Only she knows the truth, and she's never told me.

I shrug. "Some people have red hair in 3, but it's a rare thing. I'm just a stand out I guess."

"You're the only one here with your color hair; you'll stand out for sure," Elowyn says.

We mull that over for a few minutes, eating the remainders of our lunches. I do like these lemon tarts.

"Agrippina Crass."

The short girl with short black hair from 2 gets up and strides out of the room without a word to her allies. She looks determined, her hands clenched into fists at her side. She's small, but she'll put up as good a fight as any of the bigger tributes. I know, I've been watching her. She never misses when she throws.

She threatened me yesterday, telling me she'll rip my throat out as soon as we reach the arena. I hate her, and her group of Career idiots. At least they're not shouting at me today. Of course, most of them are missing right now.

Now it's just the pair from 4 who are sitting together; the boy is the picture of confidence, leaning back in his chair. The girl, however, is almost green with anxiety; she chews her nails with one hand while she drums the table with the other. Not a typical Career tribute at all.

Elowyn notices me watching the girl. "She wasn't a volunteer, you know," she says quietly.

"I know." But her not being a volunteer is odd in itself; for my whole life the tributes from 4 have been volunteers. This terrified girl is the first who doesn't want to be here.

"I'm going to go get more tarts; there's still some on the plate," Elowyn says, pushing her tray forward and standing up. I take the time that she's gone to look around at the remaining tributes.

The two troublemakers, the boy from 6 and the girl from 11, are pelting each other with pieces of fruit. Idiots, both of them. Then there's Tilling from 9, who looks to be as nervous as the District 4 girl. I feel pity for them; neither is going to come out of the arena alive.

It occurs to me for the first time that these tributes, these people that I've sat in the same room for lunch with, are the people that I'm going to have to kill. It creates a pit in my stomach knowing that I'm going to kill at least one of the children around me. Who will die at my hand?

They're all going to have to die if I'm to come out alive. And I will. Mama needs me, and Axel needs me. I need them. But how am I going to kill these people?

"Here, I brought you two," Elowyn says, sitting down and handing me two lemon tarts.

"Thanks." I smile at her, but all the while I'm thinking about how she's going to have to die too. Poor, pretty Elowyn.

"Are you alright?" she asks, taking a bite of tart.

"Just nervous," I say. I can't tell her I'm thinking about her death.

"I've seen you throw; you'll be fine."

"I know. I just don't like the idea of being alone with the Gamemakers."

"Understandable."

"Circuit Wallcry."

As I turn my head to look, Circuit's standing up, fidgeting and blinking even more than usual. I'd wish him luck, but there's no amount of luck that I can give him that will help him in there.

"You're next then," Elowyn says. I nod.

"I'm next." I push the last of the first tart into my mouth; I have a limited time to eat and I don't want to let this food go to waste. "You said earlier that you have to work in the woods?"

"Everyone does, from the age of six up. The jobs you get depend on how old you are, though," Elowyn says.

"Like what? I've never seen anything but District 3, and that's a city," I say. A decrepit city, but a city nevertheless. Supposedly, we were one of the richest districts before the Dark Days, but now we're hardly better than the lower districts, like 11 or 12.

"7's on the edge of endless forests," Elowyn says, her face growing animated. "It's beautiful. My father is a carpenter, and my mother too, so often enough I get brought into the woods by them to choose trees for their next projects. My parents are some of the very best carpenters in 7, too; everything they make gets sent to the Capitol."

Her face falls, and tears appear at the corners of her eyes. "I was supposed to start helping them with the business this year. I've been carving since I was small, but I was getting good enough to help."

I'm not sure what to say to her, so I stay silent while she collects herself. It feels odd talking to another girl; I never have before, not like this. I have nobody to call a friend at home. How ironic that the first friend I make I'll probably have to kill.

Elowyn brushes the tears away and smiles at me. "Don't mind me, I'm a sentimental. That's what my mother always tells me."

"That's alright." My heart rate has started to pick up; any time now my name could be called. Absentmindedly, I run my fingers through the end of my braid, through the coarse red hair that shouldn't be from District 3. I lied to Elowyn about some other people having red hair at home.

I'm the only one.

"You'll be fine," she says, still smiling. I would love to know how many sponsors she has already; I would also love to know how many sponsors _I_ have already. Beetee is tight lipped on that that topic, and Delia won't give anything away either. But pretty Elowyn, who's wearing her long blonde hair in two pigtails today, will be pulling the most sponsors, I can guarantee.

"The Capitol loves its pretty things," Mama told me once while we watched the electronics District 3 made being packed away on the trains. _Oh Mama, I miss you!_

"Astrid Clearwater."

As I stand, Elowyn grabs my hand. "Good luck in there. I'll see you at the interviews." Once a tribute goes through that door, they don't come back. And tomorrow I'll be stuck in the apartment. So the interview night it is.

"Yes. Good luck to you too," I say, managing a smile. How I would like to be friends with this girl; true friends, not just allies. But I can't, not where I'm going.

I feel the other tributes' eyes on me as I go out the door; each person waiting for their own turn. The hallway is deserted when I get out to it; my footsteps slow as I walk toward the door of the gymnasium. It was open earlier when we were training, but now it's closed; just a metal wall that could hold anything behind it.

Every step I take echoes off the walls as I reach the door, grab the handle, and pull. The gymnasium is deserted, but up on a stage to the right, the Gamemakers appear to be having a party. I'm lucky that I'm from District 3; I can tell that they'll be drunk by the time District 6 rolls around, and good luck to the rest of the districts.

Taking a deep breath, I step in front of the stage. "Astrid Clearwater, District 3," I say. The man wearing the purple uniform of the Head Gamemaker makes a shooing motion with his hand. I'll take that to mean that I'm allowed to do what I like now. The session has begun.

I go straight to the axe throwing station, with its targets and dummies waiting to be hit. The axes are lined up on a rack nearby; their blades shine in the artificial light, and their handles are smooth and silky; I take one in each hand and weigh them, seeing where their centers lie. Behind me, the Gamemakers are laughing at some joke, but they're still sober enough to watch me. I'm going to show them that I'm a true contender in these Games.

They're expecting the usual weak and helpless District 3 tribute. I'm going to prove them wrong.

 _Breathe in, breathe out._ Remembering the techniques that Elowyn showed me, I throw the axe from my right hand; it sails through the air and hits the target just above the red center. The left quickly follows, landing just below the first. Dead center.

There're no rules about having to stay within your station now that there're no other tributes, are there? That fool District 11 girl almost killed the boy from 2 earlier today with an arrow; I wonder what would have happened if she had succeeded. But now there's no District 2 boy to hit, so I may roam the gymnasium as I please.

Grabbing another two axes, I choose my new target; a tree over in the wooded section of the gymnasium. I throw as hard as I can; each axe meets wood, a good twenty feet or so away. Another two axes hit a dummy in the center of the room, taking off its head and wounding it in the torso; and yet another two land side by side in the center of a target.

I'm better than I thought I was. I stop for a second, marveling at what I'm capable of doing. _Take that, District 3! I'm better than you ever thought I would be._

I glance over to where the Gamemakers are sitting; several are still drinking and chatting, but the majority of them have their full attention on me. There's one last axe on the rack; I'm going to make this one count.

I turn and throw the axe with all the strength I have at the target. As it leaves my hand, I know that I've over rotated it; it hits the target without sticking and clatters to the ground. My grand finale was a failure.

"Thank you, Miss Clearwater," one of the Gamemakers says behind me. _Let me try again! I'm better than that! You saw me, I'm better than that!_ That's what I'd like to say to them.

But I don't. Instead, I thank them and walk out of the gymnasium, letting the door swing shut behind me.

I'm furious inside; my last chance to impress the Gamemakers and I failed. _I failed._ Forget about the rest; their last memory of me is that I failed to stick the last shot. That I'm just another useless District 3 tribute who will go out in the Bloodbath.

What is my score going to be?

** Shore Seawind **

"Stop biting your nails; your prep team is going to have a fit," I tell Kelpie, who has gone pale with worry. "You'll be fine; you don't have anything to worry about."

"We always get high scores; what if I'm going to be the dunce of the Games? Everyone will know I'm not supposed to be here!" she says tearfully.

"You won't be, so stop worrying!"

The girl from 3 has just gone back, which means I'm next. I'm glad she's gone; I hate the way she looks at us. Aggie keeps talking about how she wants to sort the girl out, and if she doesn't quit the staring act, I'm not going to stand in Aggie's way.

"Listen to me," I say, grabbing Kelpie's arm. "It's fifteen minutes tops. Who cares what score you get; plenty of tributes go low to fly under the radar." None of them have been from District 4, but I don't mention that.

"Glass cares, and so do I," Kelpie says, pulling her arm away from me. "And I want to show that Aria Combstar that I'm better than she ever could be."

"That's the spirit," I say, leaning back and grinning. The girl's finally getting some fire. "Don't care about Glass, but show up Aria. And show Panem what Kelpie Agan is made of. Make them believe you were so good on the stage that nobody even wanted to take your place, because there was nobody better. Think that way and you'll get an eleven."

Kelpie manages a smile, then goes back to chewing her nails. I sigh and look away from her. What is Thalassa doing right now? Does she know that I'm going to have my private session today? I want to talk to her so badly. I miss her.

I know what Da would say; "Shore, you're going to give the best you've got, and you can't ask for anything better than that." I've got to make Da proud today. I've got to make everyone proud today; District 4's hopes and dreams are pinned on me.

"How well do you think she'll do?" I ask Kelpie.

"Who?"

"The District 3 girl."

"I don't know. But I wish Aggie wouldn't go after her," she says.

"Better the girl than you," I remind Kelpie. Her face, already white, pales even further.

"Oh don't pass out, you know I'm right. Keep on Aggie's good side and you won't have a problem."

Kelpie pauses, then nods. She's scared stiff of our allies, but it's better to be in the alliance than out of it.

Mags told me this morning to work with the tridents in my private session. "You're a fisherman, that's what you're best at, isn't it?" she said with a smile.

"That and knots," I told her.

"The Gamemakers don't give high scores for knots, I'm afraid. But if you have time, throw one in." Then she patted my head and pushed me off towards the elevators. I know she's got high hopes for me, and in a strange way, I'd feel worse about letting Mags down than my family. There's just something about her that makes me want to make her proud of me.

A peal of laughter comes from a few tables over, where the boy from 6 and the girl from 11 are sitting. She almost took off Dominicus' head this morning with an arrow; Cloak almost pummeled her afterwards. We're all pretty eager to get our hands on the two of them after that. I have no doubt that it was them who shot Tiara with a nut, too. They can fool around now, but they won't be laughing once the gong goes.

"Shore Seawind." The robotic sounding woman comes over the intercom; I jump a little. Kelpie looks up at me, terrified.

"You'll be fine; I'll see you after," I say, getting up. Every tribute in the place is watching me. _You're looking at the future victor of the 41st Hunger Games_ , I think.

The hallway is creepily quiet, so I walk to the doors of the gymnasium as quickly as I can. I run my hands through my hair, tug on my shirt a little, then pull the doors open and step inside.

The Gamemakers are all standing on a sort of platform or stage, drinking and having a generally good time. Some of them smile when they see me; District 4 is a liked district, way more than districts like 6 or 11. And nobody cares about 12.

"Shore Seawind," I say proudly. Every syllable of my name says District 4, and I'm happy about it.

"Go on then," the Head Gamemaker says, waving me off. He's smiling too, though, so I don't think much of his dismissal.

The first thing I notice is that there are axes stuck into various surfaces; someone must have thrown them before my session. With her throwing skills, I'd peg it on Aggie. She's the only one I can think of who can throw like that. Of course, I didn't watch many of the others during training, but it certainly wasn't the two from District 3. Hollow cheeks, weak and skinny- they couldn't hold an axe to save their lives.

The tridents look like they were made for me; metallic and shining, their prongs newly sharpened. A natural extension of myself. I glance over at the Gamemakers; every single one of them is watching me. Perhaps they will lapse into drunkenness later, but I am from a favored district. They can afford to miss District 9; they can't afford to miss me.

I pick up one gleaming trident, choose a target- and throw. It lodges in the very center, exactly where I wanted it to go. The next two tridents I throw go through the abdomens of practice dummies, both fifteen feet or so away from me.

The fourth trident I pick up and twirl around like a baton. The Gamemakers want a show; I'll give them a show. Shore Seawind doesn't get rushed, ever. While their eyes are riveted to me, I throw the trident; it sails through the air and lands dead center on a target over on the opposite wall.

Any fisherman in District 4 can throw a trident, but I have better aim than most. That's partly why I was voted in to be the volunteer. I don't like to boast, but I am a better shot than a lot of people back home. And I'm stronger too.

There's one last trident on the rack; silver and shiny, almost looking freshly polished. I look around for a suitable target. Settling on a tree halfway across the room, I bounce on my toes for a second, then run, getting momentum- and throw.

The trident hits the tree and sticks with a satisfying sound. The Gamemakers still haven't dismissed me, but I'm out of tridents.

I'll do a knot.

Quickly, before I run out of time, I grab some rope from the knot tying station; I feel the Gamemakers' eyes on the back of my head. How much time do I have left? As fast as I can, I tie the most complicated knot I can come up with right now; a fiador knot.

Once finished, I hold the loops and knots up to be judged by the Gamemakers. The Head Gamemaker, a man in a purple tunic, nods. "You may be dismissed."

I bow, drop the knot on the table, and walk out.

Getting on the elevator, I press the button for 4 and shoot upwards into the light. Kelpie will be going in now; I wish her luck. The elevator stops abruptly and the doors open, revealing the apartment where I've been living for the past days.

"Shore, you're back," Mags says, coming into the room as I step out of the elevator. "How did you do?"

"I think I did well," I say, smiling. "I think I did really well."

"You threw your tridents, I hope," she says.

"Tridents, and I tied a fiador knot to top it off."

Mags pats my shoulder. "That's a lad. Now we wait for the girl and we see how you do, won't we?"

"What did you do in your private sessions?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"We didn't have those back then," Mags says. "Or training. The Games were a lot different in my day."

"What would you have shown them, then?"

Mags grins. "Fish hooks. It's how I won my Games, you know, boy."

Before I can answer, Glass comes around the corner. "How is my tribute doing? Did she break down again like at breakfast?"

Glass is bad tempered and not the best person to be mentoring Kelpie if you ask me. There's no way I'll tell her about Kelpie's terror at lunch. "She's fine. The others know what she can do now, and there's no problems with her being in the alliance."

"Good." Glass folds her arms and scowls at me. "And how about you? How did you do?"

"He did marvelously," Mags says, wrapping me in a one-armed hug. "Now, go get Riptide from his room and I'll order some tea, so that when Kelpie comes in, we can have a nice little party right here."

While we wait, Avoxes set the table with delicate china; the kind Ma has always wanted to own but could never afford. When I win, I'll use some of the money I'll get to buy her everything she could ever want. Sweets for the girls, and toys as well; new fishing equipment for Da and a new keel for the Jewel.

And a home for Thalassa and me.

Just as the tea is being poured, Kelpie comes in. I'm glad to see she has more color in her face than she did earlier.

"Kelpie, we were waiting for you," Mags says, beckoning Kelpie to the table. "Come and join our tea party and tell us about your adventures below."

Kelpie sits down and Mags pours her a cup of tea. "I think I did okay!" she says, a smile lighting up her face. "I threw knives, like you said, Glass, and most of them hit the target, and close to the center too! I did the edible plants matching test as well, and got a perfect score on it, and then the Gamemakers told me I could go."

Glass opens her mouth to say something, but Mags cuts her off. "Well done, Kelpie. Well done."

"Yes. It sounds like you did alright," Glass says, albeit begrudgingly. Riptide taps the table in a funny rhythm. Glass turns to him and snaps, "Will you stop that?"

"Let the boy be, Glass," Mags says. Glass looks at Mags angrily, but she doesn't dare say anything back to Mags.

Mags raises her tea cup and says, "To the District 4 tributes of the 41st Hunger Games!"

We echo, "To the District 4 tributes!"

As I taste my tea, I think it might be the best I've ever had.

** Iry Coppersmith **

I hold my head high, like Terra told me to do, as the boy from 7 goes out the door. He's shorter than me, but he's a year older. I feel a bit sorry for him, because he looked so scared when he left.

"You're quick; you're so quick," Terra told me this morning, gripping my shoulders.

"I know I'm quick!"

"Run the obstacle course, and do it as fast as you can. You'll be just fine. They already know you because you're my sister, and that gives you an edge. But really show off for them, because they're bound to be drunk when you get in there."

"Why are they going to be drunk? Shouldn't they be watching the tributes?" I asked.

"They don't really care about the tributes past the Career districts. So that's why you have to really impress them today, so you can get a good middle score. Can you do that?"

"Of course I can," I said. "You know me; I'll get a good score."

"Don't go crazy and aim for a ten or something," Terra said, smiling.

"I won't. And you'll be here when I get back?"

Terra's face fell, and she shook her head. "No, munchkin, I'm going to have to be at another party. I need to get you sponsors, and besides, as a mentor it's required I go."

"I wish you weren't a mentor."

"I wish you weren't a tribute, but here we are. I'm going to have to go to this party if I'm going to keep you safe in the arena. You'll be fine; Woven's staying behind today because Shuttle and I are taking Woof with us."

"What about Postumius?"

Terra laughed. "We'll take the orange menace with us, don't worry. But you'll be fine, munchkin."

"Don't call me that anymore; I'm almost as tall as you!" I said.

"I'll think of another name. You should head down to Training now; be good and do your best, and don't make any allies. I love you."

With a kiss on the head, Terra sent me down the elevator with Azlon, who's currently across the room watching the clock with a blank expression on his face.

I ran the obstacle course once today, beating my previous time down to three minutes, and I did really well on the edible plants and berries. The morning went really well until the boy from 6, Trestle, dropped a nut down the back of my shirt. I don't really like him, or his ally, Nell from 11. I'm pretty sure they were the ones shooting at everyone this morning with nuts. Plus, Nell almost shot Dominicus from 2 in the head with an arrow. That was exciting, though, especially when Titus had to step in and stop her and Cloak from fighting.

The remains of my lunch sit in front of me; I ate it all, except for a few pieces of fruit that I didn't like. They're green cubes, and I don't know what they are, but they were too bitter for me to eat. I loved everything else, though. Living in Victor's Village means we get fruit a lot more often than the rest of the district, but it's never stuff as exotic as this. We usually spread it around to Deecey's family too; don't want to be selfish.

"Elowyn Applering."

The really pretty girl from 7 gets up and walks out the door, just like all the other tributes have done before her. My hands are shaking a little because I'm nervous; after Azlon it's going to be me. But Terra said I'm going to be fine, so I'm choosing to believe her.

I can't believe I'm sitting here as a tribute. I remember when Terra was taken away, five years ago, and I didn't really understand why she left. I was only eight at the time. And when she came back, she was different, outside and in. For one thing, she had new legs and her fingers were missing. But she cried a lot easier and had those awful flashbacks.

And we moved from our old little house into our new big house, and I still didn't understand why. It wasn't until I was eleven when I really understood what happened. It was the first year Terra let me watch the whole Hunger Games, and only because I begged to see what was happening. I understood after I watched Tilly Dunwater get killed. We went to school together; she was only a few years older than me.

Terra doesn't talk about her Games, but they affect her every day, I know. And now I'm here, the same place she was a few years ago, about to replicate her journey. Am I going to be different when I come out? What if I lose my legs or my fingers? It's so scary to think about.

I'll be okay, though. Terra keeps telling me I will be, and I'm just going to have to believe her.

I'm so nervous; in maybe a half hour I'll be going in to see the Gamemakers. Looking around, I can tell that most of the others are nervous too. The pretty and anxious girl from 9 is biting her nails; both of the District 10s are drumming their fingers on the table. Nell from 11 doesn't look too worried, though. Maybe she's just covering it up.

Celosia from 12 is sitting across the room, looking straight ahead with an angry expression on her face. I'm trying to keep my face blank and my head held high; I don't want anyone to think I'm a target. I'm thirteen, but they shouldn't count me out yet. But they also shouldn't notice me too much. Terra keeps telling me that I need to be directly in the middle, so that the sponsors will notice me, but the others won't.

"Azlon Loombow."

Like a quiet giant, Azlon gets up and leaves the room. Me next. I would have liked to maybe ally with him, but he doesn't even pay any attention to me. I guess eighteen year olds don't usually ally with thirteen year olds.

The hands on the clock tick tick around and around. Lunch was over a long time ago; I've been sitting here for well over three hours now. I wish they'd put out more food, but the tables are sadly empty. I feel sorry for Fissure and Celosia; they'll be here latest of anyone.

I wonder if Terra will be home by the time I get back; I didn't realize I'd be here so late. The minutes tick away; Azlon's been gone almost twenty minutes now. My legs won't stop shaking, I'm that nervous.

"Iry Coppersmith."

Finally! I jump up onto my shaky legs and walk as fast as I can out the door. I go to brush my hair back, but it's in braids and neat already. Just keep walking.

The door to the gymnasium is heavy metal; it's always been open before now, but it's shut today. I have to brace my feet into the ground and pull on the handle to get it open. I wonder how the girl from 2 opened it earlier; she's so much shorter than me.

But I get the door open; a gust of air comes out just as the door opens, blowing in my face. Stepping carefully inside the gymnasium, I shut the door behind me and walk towards the stage where the Gamemakers are standing.

Like Terra told me they would be, they're drunk and singing a song. I think it's really rude of them to do that. They should be paying attention to us, since that's why they're here, isn't it?

"Iry Coppersmith," I say, my voice wavering a little. I take a deep breath and finish with, "From District 8."

The man who's wearing the purple tunic barely even glances at me. I wait a second more, seeing if he's going to say something for me, but he's more interested in pouring himself another glass of wine. So I turn away from them and go straight for the obstacle course.

It's the same as when I did it earlier, so why do I feel nervous about completing it now? The Gamemakers aren't even looking at me. Taking a deep breath, I hit the button which starts the timer, jump up on the platform- and go.

Over the balance beam, across the hanging rings; go, go, go! I cross the net, which seems to have lost the first day's trickiness, though it spins around again, trying to throw me off. I jump off and run across the small islands, onto the hanging ropes that burn my palms. Breathe, Iry!

I almost fall off of the standing sticks again, but nobody laughs this time; I jump off of them too, run across the beam with the swinging balls, and stop, panting, before the spinning wheels. My hands hurt from the climbing and the holding onto the ropes. I can't give up now, I can't! When I look over at the Gamemakers, one or two of them are watching me.

Leaping towards the spinning wheels, I almost miss, but I catch them just in time. Again I feel the wonderful flying feeling as I spin around and land safely on the other side. Last two obstacles and I'm done!

My legs shake as I run across the angled steps, then I use my momentum to get up the wall. I almost slip here too, but I catch myself at the last minute. I did it! I did it! And my time says two minutes!

I stand up, grinning from ear to ear. My hands are bright pink and raw in places, but I don't care. Terra's going to be so proud of me, and so is everyone else. I'm proud of me. A few Gamemakers are looking at me still, but most of them are paying more attention to a roast turkey an Avox just brought out and set on the table in front of them.

At least a few people saw me.

Nobody seems to want to dismiss me, so I hop down off the wall and head over to the edible plants station. The test is waiting for me, and I want to show the Gamemakers how much I know. I've spent a lot of time here over the past few days.

I easily sort mint, blueberries, and thimbleberries into the edible section, but I hesitate when I reach a particular root. One is wild carrot and the other is hemlock. They both look so similar! I'm starting to panic about how much time I have left when I remember that the stems of hemlock are smooth, while wild carrots have little hairs. I put the roots I believe are carrots into the edible section, and get it right.

I sort the last few plants just as the Gamemakers remember I'm here. "You may be dismissed," the Head Gamemaker says, shooing me away. I nod to them respectfully, like Terra told me to do, and walk out the door.

Woven's waiting for me once I get back into the apartment. Azlon's nowhere to be seen. Maybe he's already in his room. "Hello Iry," she says, giving me a hug. She's like my auntie, and I love Woven a lot. She doesn't hug everybody, but she hugs me, and that makes me happy.

"Hello Woven," I say, pulling away and smiling.

"So, how did you do?" she asks, petting my braids.

"I think I did really well! I did the obstacle course in two minutes, and passed the edible plants test!"

"Well done, dear," Woven says, hugging me again. "The others are still out, and won't be back until probably 7:30. You'll be wanting some supper after all that."

"I had to sit down in the dining hall for over three hours! And they didn't have food or anything out, so we all just had to stare at the walls. I feel really bad for the others who have to wait longer than me!"

Woven leads me into the dining room, where food is already being set out. I'm surprised to see Damius already seated. "Hello Iry," he says with a smile. I'm happy that Janus isn't here too; I don't like him very much.

"Hi!" I pull the chair next to him back and sit down; Damius helps push it forward again. Just as Woven sits down, Azlon comes in and takes the seat across from me.

"Help yourselves," Woven says, gesturing to the food on the table. There's a salad with orange pieces of fruit sprinkled in it; a pink frothy soup dotted with raspberries; and a sort of pasta dish that has green sauce on it. I take some of everything, and I love it all.

I wonder how everyone else is doing, and if they're still waiting in the gymnasium for their own private sessions. I hope I did well!

** Nell Slatefield **

It's after 8 at night, and I'm hungry and tired, and I _still_ haven't gone in for my private session. Lotem went back a few minutes ago, so I know I'm next, but I've had enough of sitting down here. Everyone else has gotten to go back and eat supper; just because I'm from 11 I get to sit in the dining hall that has no food in it.

I'm furious, and getting very impatient. There must be a better way of doing the private sessions than making us starve for hours on end.

There're only two other tributes in here with me; the pair from District 12. The boy looks terrified, but the girl, Celosia, looks angry. She looks like she'd stab one of us right now if it was allowed. She's going to go last of anyone. I don't really blame her for being angry.

My legs hurt from sitting still for so long; I haven't moved from my seat since I sat down for lunch. How long ago was that? Lunch was over at 2, and it's after 8 now- six hours? I've been sitting here for six hours? No wonder I'm tired. I had entertainment for awhile, though, at least until Trestle left. He juggled with some fruit, and then we had a small fruit fight. That was fun. But he's been gone for hours now; so, boredom. I'm not used to being bored.

I've gotten to do a lot of thinking about back home, though, so it hasn't been all bad. I'm missing Auntie and Uncle, and even Rosa; plus our little home in the Roots. It's occurred to me that if I win, we'll all have to move out into a house in the Fruit. I'm not sure how I feel about that, really. I like our little Roots house. I'm a Roots girl through and through, you know, and it would feel odd to leave it. Maybe I don't have to move; I can stay right where I've always lived. Victors can do that, can't they?

"Eleanor Slatefield."

Finally, it's me! I jump up and run out the door before Celosia and the boy can even watch me go. My legs have gone to sleep after sitting so long, so I shake them out before I open the door to the gymnasium. Have to be in the best shape to perform. The sooner this is over with, the sooner I get to go eat something upstairs. I got over my nerves well over two hours ago; I'm just ready for this to be over.

As it turns out, so are the Gamemakers. When I walk in, they're standing arm in arm, singing at the top of their lungs. Drunk out of their minds. It would be really funny if it wasn't so irritating. I stand in front of them and plant my fists on my hips.

"Nell Slatefield, District 11!" I say loudly. They ignore me and keep on singing. It's some sort of song about a bee, a fish, and a jewel; we sing a lot in District 11 but I don't know that song. Fine, they can be that way. I'm going to slingshot some stuff and see if they notice.

The first thing I shoot is one of the lights; glass smashes onto the ground, sending shards everywhere; the light goes out, of course, but none of them even look over. They're terrible singers; it grates on the ears.

_"And the bear he stole the jewel,_

_The jewel, the jewel, the jewel,_

_And the bee went after the jewel,_

_The jewel, the jewel, the jewel."_

It's really not the most imaginative song; I could sing them a hundred others that make more sense. The Gamemakers _still_ don't want to pay attention, so I load my slingshot again.

I choose a target close to me and shoot a marble at it; the slingshot giving the little ball so much power it dents the center of the target. With another marble in hand, I climb up one of the ropes leading to the net, hang on with my feet, and turn upside down, shooting a spear out of its rack. It clatters on the ground. What is it going to take for them to notice me?

I'm not one to be ignored, you know. I've had enough; jumping down from the ropes, I march back over to the stage. "Hey!" I shout at them. "Why don't you pay attention for once? That's why you're here, isn't it? So do your job!"

I feel a bit like a pouting toddler, but the Gamemakers stop singing almost immediately. The man in the Head Gamemaker uniform turns to look at me; his expression makes me shiver inside, but I won't back down. I talked with President Snow; I can talk to this man.

"Excuse me?" he says.

"I'm going to give you a show, so I think you should pay attention," I tell him.

He pauses, looking at me up and down. "Then give us a show," he says.

I turn and walk away from him; with a marble and slingshot in hand, I do a one-handed cartwheel, land upright, and shoot a pot of paint off of the camouflage station. I hear a few laughs behind me; they're not impressed, they're amused! They think I'm very funny, but I'm not trying to be funny right now.

Dropping the slingshot on the ground, I head straight for the bows and arrows. I'm not the best with them, not by a long shot, but I did almost take off the Career boy's head this morning, so that has to count for something.

I whip an arrow out of its quiver, nock it onto the bow, and aim directly at the Gamemakers.

"What are you doing?" the Head Gamemaker yells, his face turning blotchy purple and white. He should relax; I'm not going to kill him. Instead, I aim up and knock out the light right in front of the stage; glass comes down again and splinters all over the floor. _Good luck cleaning that up_ , I think.

Nocking another arrow, I shoot and hit the wall on the opposite side of the gymnasium. These arrows really do go far, don't they?

"Excuse me, Miss Slatefield!" the Head Gamemaker yells. "You are dismissed!"

I shoot one last arrow into one last light. I guess being angry makes me aim better; glass falls down again; the floor is a danger zone now. Placing the bow back on the rack, I curtsy the best I can in leggings.

"Thank you, sirs and madams, for your attention," I say, holding my head high. They want a show; I will give them a show. But they're going to have to pay attention for it. On the way out the door, I can't help but throw in another dig at them.

"By the way," I call from the doorway. "Your singing could use some work; you sound terrible!"

With that, I slam the door and head for the elevators.


	14. Capitol Tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been following this story! This chapter here is one of my favorites I've written so far. Take care!

** Terra Coppersmith **

I've had enough of being here, but Shuttle's told me we can't leave until close to 8. The scores air at 10:00, so we'll get back in plenty of time, but I hate talking with these Capitolites.

The party I'm at tonight is one where everyone who's anyone in the Capitol is attending. I've seen the most ridiculous people here; wigs that go up four feet high, dotted with ships and birds and I don't know what else; a man went by recently with claws as long as my little finger. The Capitol people are grotesque and disfigured, and sometimes I find myself wondering if they're actually human.

Most of the other mentors are here tonight too; Mags was here earlier but she left early; I guess she doesn't have to work as hard for sponsors as the rest of us do. Porter Tripp went by a few minutes ago, with her characteristic stiff walk. Seeder's here, and Silver from District 1. Everyone has a false smile on their faces, trying to save the lives of their tributes.

"Terra Coppersmith!" A rather round woman dyed a teal blue comes at me, arms outstretched. "How lovely to finally meet you! You've been tucked away for quite a while," she says, wagging her finger at me.

"Raising a sister takes up most of my time," I say, smiling at the woman. I have absolutely no idea who she is.

"Yes, but your sister is here this year, isn't she? Oh you lucky girls, both getting a shot at the crown!" Lucky; that is not the word I would use. My sister could die.

"Yes, we're very fortunate," I say, smiling tightly. I don't want to cry right here, like I've been feeling like doing the last hour or so. Every time I think of Iry I want to curl up and bawl, but I can't. I need to work on saving her life. "Iry has the best chance of winning this year, in my opinion, and not just because I'm biased."

"Oh, do tell me why!" the woman says, plucking a dark blue champagne glass off of an Avox's platter.

"She's young, but she's smarter than most of the other tributes, I'd say, and she's strong too. If she had enough sponsors, then I could make sure she would want for nothing in the arena, and give her the best fighting chance."

"Would you announce all the sponsors?" the blue woman asks, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

"I would do my best to. I'd even break the rules if I had to," I say.

"I'll think about it," she says firmly. "I'll find you again, Terra!" With that, the woman moves backwards and slips into the rest of the crowd.

Darn. That was a good chance for a sponsor.

"Hello there, pretty victor," a man says behind me. I turn to see a man who would look normal if it wasn't for his red pupils. He looks like a demon, and I'm instantly wary of him.

"Hello."

"I hear you're looking for sponsors for your little sister," he says, leaning closer. I take an automatic step back.

"Yes. I am."

"Having a victor is all well and good for the bragging rights, but what else do you get? Lost money, and soon your pockets are empty. Don't you agree?" His voice is quiet, yet threatening. I manage a nod. What else am I supposed to do?

Suddenly he grabs my hair and starts running his fingers through the curls. I shudder and step back again, but he's got me too tightly. "You want to keep your little sister alive, do you?"

"Yes," I say, still trying to get away without making a scene.

"What would you do for it?" He lets go of me suddenly and stares into my eyes with his own red pupiled ones.

"What?"

"What would you do for a sponsor? Tell me, would you do anything to save your little sister?" He brushes my hair again with his fingers as he smiles leeringly at me. "Anything?"

"Terra, there you are!" Shuttle says, appearing at my elbow. She looks alarmed, but determined at the same time. "Dolphinus Cray," she continues, acknowledging the man in front of us. "You must forgive me, but Terra is needed elsewhere."

Shuttle grabs my arm and pulls me away into the crowd, where I can't see Dolphinus anymore. "Thank you," I whisper.

"It's my job to keep you safe," she says, pulling me along. "Come on, Woof's got a new patron that wants to sponsor both tributes, which is rare enough in the Capitol."

"Shuttle!" Someone calls her name from the side, and Shuttle instantly brightens.

"Corinna! How are you?" Shuttle embraces the woman with curly brown hair that I recognize from the first day in the Prep Center. District 7 mentor. "Where's Elm tonight?"

"He stayed back to interrogate our tributes," Corinna says, rolling her eyes. "I've seen too little of you so far; we must get together while we're both in the Capitol."

"We'll be seeing too much of each other while the Games are on," Shuttle reminds her. "We sit right next to each other."

"Then we'll eat together at meals. Once the Games start, you're welcome down to our floor anytime."

"As always," Shuttle says with a laugh.

"As always. I'm afraid I have to get going; I want to be back at the Training Center in time for them to show the scores."

"There's hours yet."

"I know, but I want to hear how the day went for the tributes, you know. Oh, and this must be Terra!" Corinna says, giving me a hug.

"Terra, this is Corinna, Corinna, this is my newest recruit," Shuttle says, smiling.

"Terrible thing to hear about your sister," Corinna says, patting my arm. "I wish you all the best, you two. And good luck with that escort of yours! I saw him over at the bar twenty minutes ago and he did not look well. Good luck!" And with that, Corinna of District 7 is gone.

"We are leaving Postumius here; I don't want him back at the apartment," Shuttle says. "If Corinna is leaving, so can we. Let's find Woof and get out of here."

"Did you get anymore sponsors?" I ask. Shuttle shakes her head.

"Not yet. But we will, and we already have a good start. Don't you worry."

Woof's standing over on the balcony, talking to a man wearing a very tall red hat. "That's the man who's thinking of sponsoring both Azlon and Iry," Shuttle murmurs in my ear.

"So it's settled then," Woof says, giving a rare smile. "Thank you very much for your contribution, sir." The man in the red hat and Woof shake hands, both of them looking very pleased.

The deal must have gone through. "Thank you very much," I say, smiling too.

"One of them had better win, that is all I am going to say," the man says, tips his hat, and vanishes into the crowd.

"That's that," Woof says, turning to us. "Shall we go?"

"Absolutely. I've had enough," Shuttle says.

Woof starts to lead us out of the mob of flashing colors, feathers, and jewels. "Are we collecting the escort?"

"He can find his own way home," Shuttle says. "I've dragged his sorry drunken ass around enough times; he can manage it once."

"Excellent."

After Woof presses the down button in the building's elevator, I ask Shuttle, "Do you think Iry did alright today?"

"I'm sure she did fine."

"I'm so worried about her, Shuttle."

"You should have given her an ally," Woof says. "Given her a better chance."

"I don't want her to have a Fletcher who dies on her. I don't want her to have any attachment to the other tributes; I just want her to go in, hide, and win."

"Might I remind you that you would have died without your own ally?" Woof asks, raising an eyebrow.

"She'll be fine!" I say, my voice raising a little. "I want her to go in and win, with the least trauma possible. I don't want my sister destroyed in the arena; I want her to come out unchanged."

"That's not going to happen, Terra, I hope you know that," Shuttle says. "Everyone changes as soon as they're reaped. You can't stop it. But the best thing you could have done for her is given her an ally who would take care of her."

"And then what? She's not going to kill another tribute! They would kill her, and then where would she be?" The tears that I've been holding back the entire party spill over and I start to sob. "I can't lose her, Shuttle. I can't lose Iry."

"And we are going to do our best to make sure she comes home," Shuttle says, wrapping her arms around me. "We're going to try our best."

"I can't lose her."

"You won't."

The elevator stops and the doors open, revealing another pack of Capitolites ready to head up to the party. I smile at them through my tears, then Shuttle hurries me out and into the waiting car.

"She'll be alright, you know that," Shuttle says quietly in my ear. I nod.

"I'm so scared. I'm scared to lose her. She's who I've been living for since I was a kid. She's all I have."

"That's foolishness," Shuttle says. "You have a cat, too."

I laugh as the car pulls away from the Capitol building and into the busy streets. Even though it's getting later, the city is still as bright as it was this morning. I'll admit, the Capitol is beautiful. The colors are rich; pinks and purples and blues, all too artificial to ever be seen in nature. Behind the beauty there's a falseness to it, though. Like everyone here is play-acting.

There're quite a few cars on the streets, so our driver goes slow. This gives me a chance to see the city on a ground view, not from above like I normally do. The last time I was here, I was confined to the Training Center the whole time before the Games started. This time, I'm a mentor, and I have a lot more freedom. Something in me longs to visit the shops, to mingle in with the crowds. But I think my freedom is limited to going to parties and drumming up sponsors.

"Are we ever allowed to walk around down here?" I ask Shuttle.

"Not usually. Sometimes if a former sponsor wants me to go shopping with them, I will. It's all part of being a victor." Shuttle sounds sad when she says this.

"I don't see why you'd want to, anyway," Woof says, staring straight ahead. "Bobble heads, that's what they are. It's all a façade."

Some of the people that go by are walking dogs, dyed in all colors. There's one giant dog that comes up to the hips of the woman walking it, and it's dyed bright purple. I wish I could show Iry this part of the Capitol; she'd love it.

Despite how much I hate the Capitol, I find it hard to hate the individual people walking down the streets. For one thing, they look so unlike humans that it's hard to think of them as the same species as me. For another, the grandeur and color of the place is so beautiful. Trees with exotic fruit hang over the sidewalks; statues and water fountains are everywhere.

There's one family, a father, mother, and two girls, who are by the fountains, and if they weren't so dyed and tattooed, they could pass for a District 8 family without effort. What do the children think about the Hunger Games? How can they like seeing children like them die on screen?

"Why do they like watching us die?" I whisper to Shuttle. She shakes her head.

"I don't know, Terra. I don't know."

Without asking permission, I roll the window down and hang my head out. I hate being a mentor, hate seeing my sister as a tribute. Hate that my district's kids are forced here every year to die. But, for now, I just want to look at the Capitol without bias, and enjoy its colors.

"Pull your head in," Woof says.

"Why?"

"It's not done."

"I'm doing it."

"Let her be, Woof," Shuttle says quietly. Woof grunts, but stays quiet. Now that it's after 8:00, the heat that was present all day is finally starting to subside, leaving behind the cool of twilight. My favorite time of day. The sky isn't as blue either; it's turned more of a mauve, preparing for nightfall. I wonder how Iry did today. I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

The car goes a bit faster now, and the wind blows in my face. I so rarely ride in a car; this is a treat for me. I could easily afford a car back home, but where would I drive it? I don't need to throw my money around like that, and with my legs, I couldn't really drive it anyway.

It's a nice thought, though.

The car rounds a corner, passing a small ice cream shop that has pink haired children coming out of it, laughing; there in front of us is the Training Center. It's huge; 13 stories from the bottom up, and more underneath. Underground there's the gymnasium for training, the hospital, and I don't know what else.

"Welcome home," Shuttle says as we pull in front of the building, and stop. The driver gets out and comes around, opening my door for me. I climb out, then Shuttle, then Woof.

"Thank you," Shuttle says. The Capitol driver tips his hat to us, then drives away again. I look all the way up the building, to where the top seems to touch the sky. My temporary home and my temporary prison too.

"Shall we?" Woof says, gesturing to the door. I nod, and we go inside.


	15. The Scores

** Astrid Clearwater **

I've held it together the whole elevator ride up to the apartment. Honestly, I'm too furious to cry. I can't believe I didn't land that last throw! Up to that last axe, I did so well; now I don't know what score they're going to give me. And yes, scores aren't hugely important in the big scheme of things; I could be hiding my talents to get a low score on purpose.

But District 3 tributes don't do that! When we get low scores, it's because we're useless, and everyone knows that. If I get a 3 or a 4 tonight, everyone in the whole world will think I'm a pathetic girl who's going to get taken out as soon as the gong goes. _Please let me get higher than a 4._

"Beetee's out," Circuit says, coming out of his room. You would think he would have gotten tired of blinking constantly, but he's still doing it. Hugely irritating.

"Where?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says, shrugging. "Delia's out too."

"How do you know?" I snap at him. Maybe I shouldn't attack Circuit, but I need to get angry at someone besides myself right now.

"They're not here, so obviously they're out, Astrid."

"Whatever," I say. Circuit comes closer towards me, into the living room.

"How did your private session go?" he asks.

"Why do you care?"

"I'm just asking!" he says, throwing his hands up in the air. He looks so young and stereotypically District 3 that it just infuriates me further.

"Why do you want to know in the first place? We're not allies, we're just stuck together until the Games start!" I say, going to push past him.

"I was just being friendly, so sorry," Circuit says sarcastically. "Don't get so angry about it."

"I can get angry if I want to!" I shove Circuit out of the way and storm into my room, slamming the door behind me.

As soon as the door shuts behind me, I sink down and start to cry. I hate this; I hate all of this. I want to go home and pretend this never happened. And I'm not even in the arena yet! I don't want to go in; I just want to go back to my home and my family.

I hate the Capitol, and everything they stand for. I hate their Games, I hate their people, and I hate their tributes too. I don't hate Beetee, though; it's hard to hate Beetee. I promised Mama that I would go home, but I'm feeling the chances of me actually succeeding in doing that are dropping by the minute.

How can I compare to Agrippina, who never misses? Or Shore who can skewer a dummy with a trident from fifteen feet away? District 3 is to be played with and discarded, before the real fun can begin. Forty-one years and we've only pulled two victors. And one of them is dead. District 3 does not have the best reputation.

But I promised Mama that I would go home. I promised, and I don't like to break a promise. And I really don't want to let everyone I've ever known see me go out as soon as the gong sounds in just a few days. They hate me already; I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me die.

Wiping my eyes and hiccupping, I force myself to sit upright and not slump against the door. Tears aren't going to get me the crown. It doesn't matter what score I get tonight; we all know I'm not going to get many sponsors. If I was a rich Capitolite, I wouldn't pay money to help me either; I would bet on a Career, or one of the idiots who go around shooting people.

I'm just going to have to show them that I'm worthy of being sponsored. Tears are not part of that.

So I stand up and go into the bathroom to wash my face. I don't want the others to see that I've been crying. My eyes are red and my face is blotchy when I look in the mirror, but I don't care. By the time supper rolls around, all evidence of me crying will have faded from my face.

Back in my room, I take off the clothes I wore to training today and throw them on the floor beside the wardrobe. I've always wanted pretty clothes, so I'm going to wear pretty clothes. Sorting through the options given to me, I pick a beautiful flowy green dress. I really do feel beautiful when I spin in it and see the fabric fly out around me. Like a beautiful, green bird.

With a hairbrush I found yesterday, I comb out my hair gently, letting it stay loose over the green. There are full length mirrors here in the Capitol, which we never had back home, and for the first time in my life I can see the whole of me. Astrid Clearwater.

The first thing I take note of is how skinny I am, but that's no different than most of the other tributes. Excepting, of course, the Careers, and even the little girl from 8. Eating well gives you an edge, which is something I don't have. Often enough, Mama has to choose between food or the rent, and we go to bed hungry. If I win, we'll never go hungry again. That's enough of an incentive to push me through the coming weeks.

The rest of me I know by heart: long red wavy hair, green eyes; freckles. A nose that, in my opinion, is too thin, but which my mother loves. "You are beautiful, my Astrid. And you grow more beautiful every day," is what Mama often says to me. I'll hold that in my heart and believe it. I'll need it.

While I wait for everyone to get back from wherever they've been, I jump around on the furniture. The bed is soft and bouncy; I jump higher and higher until I finally launch myself off the bed onto the floor. I could never do this back home; our bed is close to falling apart just from us sleeping on it.

After a while, I order some bread and fruit from the machine in the corner of the room. Very clever technology; I recognize the machine from the ones I've seen loaded onto the trains headed to the Capitol. If I win, I wonder what I would do with myself. I'd leave school immediately, of course, but then what?

I'd be so rich I wouldn't have to worry about it, I guess.

Once I tire of jumping on the furniture, I sit by the window and watch the cars and people go by down below in the street; tiny in their outlandish clothes. I can't tell if they're costumes or not. Every day seems to be a celebration for these people. Or is it just because the Games are on? I don't know.

I'm close enough to the ground that I can see individual people and what they're wearing; feathers, collars that go up two feet above the coats, and all manners of fabric. I couldn't tell you what fabrics they are, because that's District 8's affair, but none of them are cheap. District 3, you get some rough cotton if you're lucky. Maybe a bolt of wool sometimes if you trade enough.

We never have much to trade for cloth, which is why my reaping outfit fit so poorly. Axel's lucky to be a boy; all his clothes have to be made new, while I get hand me downs from Mama, or occasionally a generous neighbour. Mama's kept Axel's father's clothes packed away for him when he gets older. I think she should trade them now and be done with it, but I can't help it now.

I watch and watch out the window until the daylight starts to fade into darkness. The city stays lit up, though, and the busyness of the Capitol never stops. Back home, when darkness falls, that's when curfew hits and you don't go outside again until dawn.

"Astrid? Are you back yet?" I jump a little when Sparkle calls through my door in that horrible high-pitched accent.

"Yes; I've been back for hours," I say. Where'd she come from, and why is she here?

"Why don't you come on out? Supper is in ten minutes."

"Is Beetee back?" I ask.

"Not yet, dearie." Don't call me dearie.

"What about Delia?"

"She's not back either. Come on out and join us!"

Sparkle's high heels click down the corridor away from me; I don't want to go and talk with her, but I'm hungry again, and I really don't have anything better to do in here. So I get up and follow her down the hall. My arms hurt from throwing axes for the past three days.

She's not in the living room when I reach it, so I go into the dining room instead. There I find Sparkle already seated; across from her is Circuit and his stylist, Pompey.

"Why are you here?" I ask Sparkle, sitting down beside her.

"To keep you two company while Beetee and Delia are away, of course," she says, smiling brightly. "And to watch the scores with all of you tonight! I just know you're going to do wonderfully!"

"Thank you for your unwavering confidence," I tell her. Back in the Prep Center, I heard her chatting with my prep team about how she hates being the stylist for District 3, because we die right off the bat and waste her 'artistic talents.'

Two Avoxes come in, dressed in red as usual, and place bowls of stew in front of us, and a large basket of bread in the middle of the table. One of them, an unsmiling girl with dark hair, pours wine into each cup, then both Avoxes leave the room. I know neither of them can speak, because they have no tongues. What did they do that was so bad to deserve that fate?

"And how did your private sessions go?" Pompey says. He's a balding man, not attractive by Capitol or District standards. He doesn't have any alterations that I can see, either, so I wonder why they keep him around to style the tributes. Usually the Capitol likes their pretty things, like my mother said.

"I'd rather keep that a secret," I say, eating a spoonful of stew.

"Got something to hide?" Pompey asks, nudging me.

"Don't touch me. I don't want to tell you anything," I say. Pompey's mouth drops open, but he doesn't say anything more. Circuit looks from his stylist to me, and back again, but he doesn't say anything either. Wise choice; I'm not in the mood for conversation.

"I see we've nearly missed supper." I look up to see Beetee coming through the doorway, followed by Delia.

"There's plenty left," Pompey says, gesturing to the full plates.

"Where were you?" I ask Beetee. He keeps his face blank, not giving me any information as to how he's feeling.

"We were at a party looking to sign you sponsors," he says evenly.

"And did you get us sponsors?" I ask.

"We did well enough," Beetee says, sitting down. The dark haired Avox comes in and puts a bowl of stew in front of him, and another in front of Delia. Neither of them acknowledges the girl's presence.

Beetee's not going to give me anything, and it's driving me crazy. He's not the kind of man you press, though, so I bite back everything I want to say.

"I am going to assume that your private sessions went well," he says, peering up at us over his glasses. He's looking to see what emotions I give, too. We're alike in that way; maybe that's why I like him. I give him nothing, keeping my face as blank as his.

I look at Beetee and say, "We did well enough." He cracks a smile.

"Good. Good."

Sparkle launches into a longwinded story about one of the other stylists and how annoying she is, while the rest of us pretend to listen as we eat our stew. Pompey is the only one who looks like he might be enjoying the story, while even Delia starts to zone out after a while. I just focus on the food.

"I propose we eat our desserts in the living room," Beetee says once our bowls have been cleared and we're waiting for the last course. "While we wait for the scores to be shown."

"What time is it?" Circuit asks.

"Almost 9:30. They'll be airing the scores soon enough."

I take my piece of caramel colored cake from the Avox girl and walk into the living room with it. It smells wonderful. I sit down just as Beetee turns the television on; being broadcast right now are the highlights of last year's Games.

I particularly hated last year; our tributes got taken out immediately, as usual, but the girl from 5 turned out to be sadistic, torturing her victims to death. She finally got killed, and the victor ended up being the nervous kid from 4.

"The boy's still a nervous wreck," Beetee says, eyes glued to the screen. "I see him occasionally. They usually don't let him out of the apartment."

"A good thing?" Circuit asks. I hope nobody this year turns out to be sadistic; they'd have a wonderful time with him. Weak and helpless, that's Circuit.

"Yes," Beetee says.

"It's starting now," Delia says, nodding to the screen.

"They don't usually start early; must be the preliminary talking," Beetee says, taking a bite of cake.

"We have an entertaining season ahead of us, Panem!" Caius Glorystream says, grinning into the camera like a madman. His tattoos look worse every time I see him. "24 of the best tributes the districts have to offer, and we're going to take a look at some of our favorites!"

Pictures flash onscreen of several tributes. "Cloak and Tiara, from District 1! How can you not love them? I think they're beauty and brains this year, don't you, Marcus?" Marcus Fireglen, the man who does the tribute interviews, laughs.

"I love all our tributes equally, Caius! It wouldn't do for me to pick favorites, now would it?"

"But if you had to, who would you pick?" Caius presses, laughing himself. I don't see what's so funny.

"I'm awfully fond of that pretty girl, Elowyn, I have to say, Caius. I think she's just the loveliest thing we've had in forty-one years!"

"I'll have to agree with you on that one," Caius replies. "Another favorite that we're seeing is Eleanor- pardon me, Nell- Slatefield. Ooh, she's a firecracker that one!"

"I really do think this is going to be the best Hunger Games yet!" Marcus says. I hate them, hate the Capitol and the Games and everything they stand for. I hate them.

"Now, it looks like we have the scores for our latest tributes, so shall we see how they rank?" Caius says.

"Yes," I mutter. Just get on with how badly I did.

"Starting first with District 1, we have Cloak Greysong with a score of… 8!" Classic Career score. "And Tiara Softshield has also received a score of 8!"

"Those are mediocre scores for a Career," Beetee says, watching the screen intently. "They're not the real threats in these Games."

"8 is still high," Circuit says.

"If they had a 9 or 10, then you worry. 8 is a standard Career score."

"From District 2, we have Dominicus Sorce with a score of 7!" Beetee nods like he understands something. "And Agrippina Crass has received a score of… 9!"

"You watch her," Beetee says, pointing at Agrippina's headshot with his fork. "A 9 means they've seen something in her. Scores don't tell you everything, but when it comes to the Career Districts, they give you a good idea of what to expect."

"This is you two," Delia says. I'm getting used to her white skin and cloud blue hair; it's tame compared to some thing I've seen in the Capitol. Looking away from my escort, I bite my nails, waiting to see my score.

Circuit's picture flashes on the screen with the number 3 beside it. Ouch. He did worse than I thought he would. I thought he might pull a 4.

"Scores aren't everything," is the only thing Beetee says.

"And also from District 3, we have Astrid Clearwater!" I hold my breath. Please don't let it be lower than a 3. "With a score of… 7!"

I clap my hands over my mouth, knocking my cake over in the process. I don't care. A 7! That's the highest score I've seen for District 3 in years. It's a Career score! I couldn't be more surprised than I am right now. Mama will be so happy.

Beetee looks over at me and nods approvingly. "Well done, Astrid." Such simple words, but they make me glow inside. I want to dance, to sing, to jump up and down with joy. A 7!

"Have a seat and celebrate later," Delia says, smiling at me, "Let's see the other scores."

Shore from District 4 receives another healthy Career score of 8, and the girl surprises me by getting a 6. "She's no threat," Beetee says. "A 6 is nothing for a Career."

The small twelve-year-old from 5 gets a 3, the same as Circuit, and the girl, Hazel, gets a 4. Both of them will go out pretty fast. I wonder if they know that. I don't care right now; I got a 7!

Trestle Deadwood, the troublemaker from District 6, blows all of us out of the water when he gets an 11. Beetee raises his eyebrows and adjusts his glasses. "What was he like in training?" he asks quietly.

"A troublemaker," I say. "He and Nell from 11 were glued at the hip the whole time."

"I see." Mariana, the eighteen-year-old, gets a 5, as does Kiril from District 7. Elowyn, his district partner and the pretty one, gets a 7.

Azlon from District 8, the really tall guy, gets a 7 as well. "Just a point higher than average," Beetee says. I'm a point higher than average too, but District 3 never even hits average. He should be thrilled. I think Beetee only got a 5 or something in his own Games.

The little District 8 girl, Iry, gets a score directly in the middle; a 6.

"I feel sorry for her every time I see her," Delia says. "Especially since her sister was a victor already."

"It's marvelous entertainment," Sparkle says. Circuit glares at her, but she's too wrapped up in her own little dramas to notice. I don't care right now; the happy glow inside me is pushing out all negative thoughts. They think I have a fighting chance, which will bolster my ability to pull sponsors, and thus keep me alive.

Reaper, the boy from 9 that I haven't paid much attention to past seeing him wrestling in training, gets an 8. "When it's an outlying district that gets an 8, then it's noteworthy," Beetee says. "You would do well to watch him as well."

Tilling, the desperate girl who wanted me to be her ally, gets a 5. Really, I'm surprised she got a score that high.

The pair from District 10 get scores of 4 and 5; neither of them will go far. I can't see them playing the weak route only to come out fighting at the end.

"I'm interested to see what Nell got," Delia says, fluffing a cushion behind her.

"We have Lotem Raanan from District 11!" Caius says; the boy's headshot goes on the screen. "With a score of 5! And our favorite firecracker, Nell Slatefield, has received a… 10!"

"She's allied with Trestle, if I am not wrong?" Beetee says to no one in particular.

"You're not wrong," Circuit says. He looks disappointed at his own score; I would be too if I were him.

"Then they will be a tough pair to beat."

Finally, Fissure from 12 gets the lowest score in this year's Games, with a 2, while Celosia manages to pull an 8. The Capitol seal appears on the screen, and then Beetee's turned it off.

"The Careers might be the least of your worries," he says, looking from Circuit to me, and back again. "Outlying districts with high scores are the ones to look out for. They have not been trained like in the Career districts; whatever they can do is pure talent or ability. And so, they will be more difficult to defeat. Keep that in mind."

"Yes, sir," Circuit says.

"Never sir. Beetee does just as well. I would like you two to go get a good night's sleep; tomorrow we begin to prepare you for your interviews."

The faces of my fellow tributes flash in my head as I walk towards my room. I have some dangerous opponents, but I'm not going to count myself out. Far from it! I am the District 3 girl who got a 7, which means I'm just as much a competitor as the others.

But, unlike them, I'm going to win.

"Goodnight," I say to Circuit as we part ways at our bedroom doors. I can't hate a boy who only got a 3. It's just too cruel.

He blinks a few times in surprise, then replies, "Goodnight."

Closing my door behind me, I sink down to the floor, grinning from ear to ear.

I'm going to live.


	16. Champion

** Shore Seawind **

Kelpie's sitting curled up in her chair, facing away from the rest of us. "Oh calm down, Kelpie; it's not the end of the world," I say.

"It is!" she says through muffled sobs. "I got the lowest score of our alliance. Now everyone will think I'm weak."

"Sit up and look at us," Glass says. Kelpie doesn't move. "I said sit up and look at me, Kelpie Agan."

Kelpie turns and looks at Glass, tears rolling down her face. "You don't like your score," Glass says. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"What?"

Glass gets up and grabs Kelpie by the shoulders, shaking her. Riptide's fingers tap out a rhythm, faster and faster. Mags looks concerned, but says nothing. "I said, what are you going to do about it? If you're just going to sit and cry because you got a 6, then I might as well give you up for dead now."

Kelpie cries even harder. "Glass-" Mags starts, but Glass rounds on her as well.

"If she wants to have even a fighting chance, then she's got to prove that she's not just a weakling from District 4. It's not our fault that she got reaped and nobody volunteered for her, just like that feckless boy in the 36th. And do you know what happened to him?" Nobody says anything. "He died in the bloodbath. Are you going to go out in the bloodbath, or are you going to fight?"

"I'm going to fight," Kelpie says quietly.

"What's that? You're going to give up right now?"

"I'm going to fight!" she says louder.

"Then you have a chance. I will not baby you, Kelpie Agan. If you want to stay in the Games, you have to fight for it. Prove that you're not just a 6; prove that the Gamemakers made a mistake in underestimating you. Do you understand me?" Glass says, louder than necessary.

"Yes," Kelpie replies, wiping her face with her hands.

"Good." Glass starts to walk out of the living room but stops. "I'm going to bed; tomorrow I'm going to coach you on your angle for the interviews. Get a good night's sleep; we start early."

"Riptide, you go ahead and sleep too," Mags says gently. The boy looks up, alarmed, at his mentor. I get the feeling that Mags never stops being a mentor once her tribute has won. "It's alright. You're safe."

"Al-alright," Riptide says, and gets up, still tapping that rhythm on his pant legs.

"Kelpie, you run along. I want to talk to Shore for a little bit," Mags says. Our stylists, Augustus and Lukos, left right after the scores were announced. Now it's just Kitty Prior, with the dyed red skin and white tattoos, who's left sitting in the living room.

"I feel rather tired myself. If you'll excuse me," she says, and leaves for her own room quickly.

"Goodnight then, Kitty," Mags calls after her. Kitty doesn't stop to return the sentiment.

Kelpie's starting towards her room when Mags stops her with a warm hug. "You'll be fine, dear. Don't worry. You'll be alright."

Kelpie nods uncertainly, then flees. Once her door shuts, Mags offers her hand to me with a smile; I take it, and follow her to the elevators.

"Where are we going?" I ask once we're inside. Mags presses the button at the very top, which has no number on it.

"The roof," she says simply.

"I didn't know we could go there."

"If you're with me, you can."

The doors open to a dark garden where the lights of the Capitol don't reach. It's overly noisy up here, with wind chimes and a strong breeze blowing. In daylight, I don't doubt that it would be beautiful up here, but the trees and plants that hang about could conceal any number of things in the dark. Ringed around the edges of the building, there is a concrete wall, which is lower than I would have thought it would be for the top of the Training Center.

"Don't they worry about someone jumping or falling off of here?" I ask Mags, who's behind me.

"Put your arm out, Shore," she says.

I reach out over seemingly empty air; I jerk back when I feel the electric shock run up my arm. Shaking it out, I ask, "What is that?"

"A forcefield. We wouldn't want a tribute to come up here and jump, as you suggested might happen. Now, my boy, how do you feel about your odds going into the Games?" Mags leans against the wall and waits for my answer.

"I got an 8; I'd say my odds are pretty good."

"The scores only help the sponsors pick who to spend money on. It says nothing about your odds. How prepared do you feel going into the arena in two days?"

I look out over the Capitol, this beautiful city that calls for my blood. "I have a solid alliance, which increases my odds of living. I'm strong from fishing all my life, and I'm capable too. More so than most of the others, in my opinion. I'd say I'm ready."

"And inside? That is just the outside portion of being prepared," Mags says, coming to stand beside me. "Is your mind ready to enter the arena?"

"I don't understand."

"Shore, there will be a shift in your thinking when you stand in the Launch Room before the Games start."

"How so?"

"You will truly realize your own mortality," Mags says. "I did. I remember when I came here for the first time, at sixteen years old. I was younger than you, as you recall me saying. It was beautiful to me, but I was frightened. I will admit that. But I didn't truly understand how it would feel to stand ready to go into the arena."

"What do you mean, realize my own mortality?" I ask. She wouldn't have asked me to come up here if this talk wasn't important, but I'm not quite understanding what she's getting at. Yes, I could die in the arena. But I won't. So she shouldn't worry about it. As a mentor, I suppose her job is to worry, though.

"In the moments before that metal plate rises, you will be forced to confront the possibility of your own death. Those are the last moments that are truly your own; after that, your life is in the hands of yourself, your allies, and the Gamemakers."

"I could die, but I'm not going to. What are you asking me to do?"

Mags smiles. "When the time comes, push the thoughts of dying away, and live. But don't forget this, Shore: your allies want to live as well. And they will kill you to go home. They are not your friends; they are your allies as long as they can be useful to you."

"It seems a bit cruel to use them like that," I say.

"Oh, it is. That's why the Gamemakers want you to. It's all part of the show, Shore. Give them their show and you'll live."

"And what about Kelpie?"

Mags is silent, hands still on the concrete barrier between garden and sky. "She shouldn't be here," she says finally.

"Aria Combstar was supposed to volunteer."

"Yes, and by not volunteering she has condemned the poor girl to death."

"You don't think she has a chance?" I ask. Mags hesitates, weighing her words before she says them.

"She is too timid; too afraid. Afraid tributes never become victors, Shore. When the time comes, I hope you ensure her end is as painless as possible. For her, and for her poor family at home."

"I'm not going to kill her, Mags." Just the thought of driving a trident or a spear through Kelpie makes my stomach turn. I know she's not going to make it out, because for me to win she has to die, but to hear Mags say she has no chance- it makes it more real. I can't help but feel sorry for my district partner.

"I'm not asking you to. But make sure she retains some dignity in death." Mags' voice turns downward as she speaks of Kelpie's inevitable demise. "She's a sweet girl. Don't let her suffer."

"And what about me? I believe I can win; do you?" Sometimes I feel that Mags has all the confidence in the world in me, other times she doubts me. She shouldn't doubt me; they elected me volunteer for a reason. If I wasn't capable of winning, I wouldn't be standing here. Kelpie was just a fluke; Aria would be having a much better go at it than the poor crying girl downstairs. That's why they choose the volunteers; to give the tributes the best chance of surviving.

Mags looks sharply over at me. "Yes. I do believe it. But remember, my boy, as I said on the train: overconfident tributes die just as easily as fearful ones. Believe you can win and let that sustain you throughout the Games. But don't let your confidence overrule reason."

She pats me on the shoulder. "I believe you will be my champion; I really do. But do keep your head about you, won't you Shore?"

"Of course I will."

"Good. You're a sensible lad. Let's go back down before they miss us, shall we?"

The ride down the elevator is quiet, as both Mags and I think about what she told me. Regardless of what she says, I'm not going to think about dying in the arena. Isn't that counterproductive? I'm going in there to live, not to die.

As if she can read my thoughts, Mags says, "Things will look different within the arena." I nod. I don't quite agree with her, but I'll let the matter lie.

The elevator doors open onto our floor. Mags pats my shoulder warmly. "You sleep now too. It's going to be a long day tomorrow, and you'll want to be wide awake for it."

"Yes ma'am."

"Shore. I'm old, but I'm not old enough to be a ma'am. Always Mags."

I look at my mentor, who, despite what she says, is not old. She could even be considered beautiful. I wish I could have known her better, and longer, back home; Thalassa would like her. Da would respect her. Mags is wise, and even though she talks a lot about dying, I could learn a lot from her.

These are the things I want to tell her, my mentor who wants me to live, so I can mentor by her side. But I don't. Instead, I nod and say, "Mags."

"That's better. Goodnight," she says, and walks away.


	17. Memories

** Iry Coppersmith **

As soon as my eyes open, I'm wide awake. Today I start preparing for my interview, and I'm nervous and excited all in one. I wonder what Terra wants me to do; she didn't tell me last night before bed. But she did tell me she was so proud of me for getting a 6.

"That's perfectly in the middle; you're not a target now, Iry," she said, kissing my forehead. She was the happiest I've seen her since we came to the Capitol.

What would I be doing right now if I was at home? Ribbons usually wakes me up early to go outside and do cat things. Maybe I'd be sleeping still, or sometimes I get up and read before making Terra her tea in the mornings. I'd be going to school, and waiting for the Games to start. And waiting for them to be over.

I feel so homesick all of a sudden. I miss Ribbons; I miss Deecey and Alex and baby Eli. I miss my friends. I really want to go home to them, but I have to win first. Terra will help me win; she promised. Terra doesn't break promises. She promised to come home, and she did.

I try to put all the thoughts of home away in my head; pulling the pant legs of my pajamas down to my ankles, I jump out of bed and stretch. Time to find Terra, I think. It's funny that I haven't gone to see her in the mornings since we got here. I usually get up first and make the tea, and bring it to her once she's properly awake. Usually she's had a nightmare, so I calm her down, make her drink her tea, then head off to school after waving to Shuttle.

Shuttle told me a few years ago, after Terra got home and we had just moved into Victor's Village, that she would go check on my sister every day so I didn't have to worry at school. Shuttle and Woven are like family now, just like Deecey is. I don't know Woof very well, but he seems nice.

There're several doors that look the same out here; I don't want to wake Azlon or Woof up when I'm looking for Terra. Must be very, very quiet. I open one door and peer in; Shuttle's asleep in there. She doesn't look like she's sleeping very well, though; her blankets are all in a mess and she's muttering in her sleep. Suddenly I feel like I'm intruding on her privacy, so I back out and shut the door quietly.

It's a bit exciting exploring the apartment when nobody is up. Maybe it's not allowed, but I don't really care right now. I could go anywhere; even escape out into the Capitol! They'd bring me back right away, but it would be an adventure. I've always dreamed of having an adventure. But isn't this an adventure already, being in the Capitol? Even going into the arena seems like an adventure.

The next door I try opens into a brightly lit room; there's a bed just like mine on one wall, and in the bed is my sister. I close the door quietly behind me as I step in, tip toeing to the bed.

"Good morning!" I sing, bouncing onto the bed. Terra sits upright like a flash, eyes wide and terrified.

"Get away from me!" she says, gripping the blankets so tightly her knuckles are white.

"No! No, it's just me, Terra!" I say, grabbing her hands. "It's Iry!" I forgot that she doesn't wake up well; how could I forget? It's been my job to take care of her in the mornings for the past five years.

"Don't kill him!" she shrieks, pulling away from me. "Please don't kill him!"

"Terra, wake up!" She must be having a nightmare. "Wake up, Terra! It's just Iry!" I say. "Terra!"

She blinks a few times, then promptly bursts into tears. "I'm sorry!" I say, reaching out to hug her. "I shouldn't have come in so early." I feel just terrible that I sparked a flashback.

Terra pulls away and lies back down, pulling the covers over her head. It doesn't do much to muffle her crying and talking softly. "Why are you dead? Why did you have to die for me, you fool!"

It's Fletcher. He comes a lot in her nightmares. Terra never says so, but I hear her talking about him at night sometimes.

"I'm not Fletcher. I'm Iry," I say, my own voice trembling now. I hate making her cry.

Her voice clears of the flashback confusion and she sits up again. "Iry?"

"Yeah. Sorry I woke you," I say, trying not to cry myself.

"It's okay. It's okay," she says, pulling me into a tight hug. "Don't worry about it."

"Bad dream?" I whisper.

"Yeah. It's okay though. You're here and that's what matters." What's Terra going to do when I go into the arena? I know Shuttle will look out for her, and Woven and Woof will too, but what is she going to do without me?

"It's interview prep day!" I say.

"It is!" Terra says, pushing me away from her and holding me at arm's length. "I think we're going to present you as a sly, cunning little thing."

"Terra!" I laugh.

"No, a ruthless killing machine. They'll all buy that!"

"Be serious, Terra," I say, still giggling. The idea that anyone could think I would kill people is silly. I'm going into the arena to hide until nobody's left.

"I'll tell you the angle I've figured out for you when we actually go into the prep."

"When will we do that?"

"After breakfast. Which, according to the clock, isn't for another twenty minutes."

"I couldn't sleep. Are you mad?"

Terra hugs me again. "Mad at you? I couldn't be."

"What do you think the arena is going to be?" I ask. "I've been thinking a lot about it."

My sister falls silent, rocking me back and forth. "A cake. A giant, frosted cake that you can take bites out of."

"Terra!" I say, starting to laugh again.

"Or a land made of candy. You have a sweet tooth; I know you'd like that." Terra's being silly, but I know she's really scared underneath it. I don't want her to worry about me, but I don't think I can make her stop.

"Let's hope it's an arena full of cats," I say.

"Small cats," Terra says quickly. "You wouldn't like giant cats."

"Small cats it is. Like Ribbons."

"You'll be just fine, you know that, right?" Terra says.

"I know, you keep telling me."

"Listen, Iry. This is really important, so remember what I'm going to say."

"Okay." Terra pushes me away again, looking straight into my eyes.

"When you get into the Games, you're going to have sixty seconds to stand on your metal plate and figure out where you are and who you're by."

"I know that; everyone who watches the Hunger Games knows that."

"Don't step off the plate before the gong goes; the land mines will blow you to pieces."

"I know."

"And above all, don't run to the Cornucopia. That's where everyone is going to be heading, and that's where you'll get killed. If there's supplies by your feet, grab it, and run as fast as you can away from the Cornucopia. Put as much distance between yourself and the others as you possibly can. Then stay out of their ways and let them fight it out until the end."

"I won't run to the Cornucopia; I promise."

"Good. That's the worst thing you could do."

Someone knocks on the door. "Come in?" Terra calls.

The door opens to reveal a tired looking Shuttle in grey pajamas; her hair is all tangled around her shoulders. "Why are you all up? I can hear you talking from my room. Is everything okay?"

"I couldn't sleep in any longer, so I came to find Terra," I say.

"They're setting the table for breakfast, so if you're hungry you can go get something to eat."

"Did Postumius come back last night?" Terra asks. He wasn't in the living room when we were watching the scores; I just figured that he was asleep in his room. He does that sometimes. I didn't realize he might not have come home at all.

"Not really sure, actually," Shuttle says, looking over her shoulder into the hallway. "You'd think we would hear him come in, don't you think?"

Terra rubs her face. "So we left him at that party and now we don't know where Postumius is."

"That about sums it up. I'll send Woven out to look for him later."

"Isn't the orange menace supposed to teach camera manners or something?" Terra asks. "I was forced on him in my year."

"Well, if he doesn't turn up by the end of breakfast, I'll take Iry first off and teach her camera manners so that even if he does come back, it'll be too late for him to get his hands on her," Shuttle says, combing out her hair with her fingers.

"Thanks," Terra says, looking very relieved. I'm relieved too; I didn't want to spend four hours with Postumius. He freaks me out, actually.

"What about Azlon?" I ask.

"Woven and Woof can tag team on him. I doubt Woof will be up to teaching manners though, seeing as he has very little of his own."

"Iry, go get dressed, and I'll meet you in the dining room, okay?" Terra says.

"Okay, see you there."

I jump off the bed and run out of the room, back to my bedroom with the soft blankets and pretty view. What should I wear? A lot of the clothes in the wardrobe are too fancy or really ugly, but I finally pull out a pretty dark pink shirt and blue pants. Add to that some slippers, because I don't want to wear shoes around the apartment, and I look nice.

My hair's a bit of a mess, but I'm not supposed to touch it before tomorrow, since Damius and the rest of my prep team are coming in to make me really pretty for the interviews. Damius told me last night, "I've got something really special designed for you." I'm excited to see what it is. Anyway, my hair is in a bunch of little braids, so it doesn't look that bad all mussed.

When I get to the dining room, the table's been set with all sorts of breakfast foods: toast, eggs, bacon, fancy waffles- everything tasty that I could ever want to eat. Add onto that the jams and the whipped cream, and I feel like one of the princesses from the books Terra read to me when I was younger.

Azlon comes in as I'm putting whipped cream and strawberries on my waffles. "Good morning!" I say.

"Morning," he says, a bit dismissively. I'm not sure if he likes me or not. Maybe I'm just too young for him; he is eighteen, after all.

"What are you having to drink?" Woven asks, coming in wearing a pretty blue shirt.

"Hot chocolate," I say, grinning. Even living in Victor's Village we don't get hot chocolate very often, so I'm going to drink as much of it as I can while I'm here. I wish I could stay here and look around the city, and just have fun in the Capitol. And eat all sorts of nice things all the time.

"Good choice." Woven takes a piece of toast and starts spreading jam on it. Terra and Shuttle come into the room together, talking quietly.

"Where's Woof?" I ask, before taking a big bite of waffle.

"Still asleep I'm assuming," Woven says. "Our esteemed escort never made it back last night, if you haven't already noticed."

"We noticed. Want to go find him?" Shuttle says.

"Absolutely not. The longer he's away, the better. If Woof wants him back, he can go find him."

"If I want who back?" Woof says, walking in. This waffle is so good.

"Orange boy," Shuttle says. "He never made it back last night."

"I am not tracking him down in the Capitol, I hope you know that," Woof says, also choosing a piece of toast. "If he comes back, he comes back, and I'm not going to worry about the idiot."

"Good, that's settled then," Shuttle says, pouring coffee into a cup for her, and then another for Woof. He nods his thanks.

"Since our escort is missing, Woven, you can take over the manners portion of the prep," Terra says, sipping her tea.

"Alright. Woof, you're coming up with the angle," Woven says.

"Already done, don't you worry your head."

I stop listening then, instead focusing on my wonderful waffle and hot chocolate. I drink two cups and eat three waffles before I'm full, and by that time, everyone else is done too.

"Come on, Iry, let's go to the living room and practice what you're going to do in your interview tomorrow," Shuttle says, wiping her mouth and standing up.

"Okay."

"You're with me, boy," Woof says, pointing at Azlon. "Let's you and me go to your room and discuss angles."

Azlon and I get up at the same time; he's so tall he towers over me. He doesn't say much, that's for sure. But we walk into the living room together, and then part ways; me staying and him going down the hall with Woof.

"Take a seat," Shuttle says, and I sit down on a soft chair across from her. "Alright, I'm going to show you how to smile and talk for the cameras."

"Okay, let's do it!" I say, bouncing. Four hours can't be that much, can it?

It turns out, four hours is a _long_ time. Shuttle's really nice, but really strict, and she has me smile and smile and smile, until my face hurts. Then she has me walk gracefully around the apartment, first in bare feet, then in short heels.

"Damius has promised me that he isn't going to put in you in insanely high heels, and your outfit isn't going to be difficult to walk in, but it's good to get used to heels anyway," she says. The shoes she gives me pinch my feet a little, but I don't complain.

"Repeat after me: It's wonderful to be in the Capitol!" I repeat after Shuttle all the phrases she says, and she's pretty happy with me. I don't know why it takes four hours to teach me all this, because it's easy stuff.

Finally, she pats my cheek and smiles. "You're a natural at this; you've grown up under the spotlight and that makes it easier." It's true; usually every year the Capitol sends some sort of film crew to just remind everyone that Terra still exists. They didn't do it this year, for some reason. Maybe they forgot about her, like she's always hoping. I'm usually interviewed after Terra, and so I know how to talk around the cameras.

"It's easy what you're teaching me. Why does it take so long?" I ask.

Shuttle sighs. "It's the rules."

"We could break the rules."

"We already have, by not having Postumius handle your camera manners. Really, you don't need to learn much else. They're going to love you, Iry."

"Can I ask you something?" I ask, sitting back in a pile of cushions.

"Of course."

"Terra says I'm going to be fine and win and everything, but what do you think?" I love Terra, but she's very optimistic for me. Shuttle's not as optimistic, so I'll trust what she says. If she says I can win, then I'll believe her.

Shuttle's quiet, looking out the window with her chin in her hand. "Shuttle?"

"How honest do you want me to be?" she says finally. My stomach drops and I swallow hard.

"Really honest."

"You're thirteen, which means your age goes against you. Nobody under fifteen has won yet, you know. But you're tall, taller than quite a few of the others, which is in your favor. You've always been well fed and healthy, and you're pretty strong. If you hide, you'll be okay, like Terra was."

"What about allies? Terra told me not to have any, but should I have gotten some?"

She's quiet again. "I don't know. Maybe. Yes, if I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Iry. I don't want to lie to you."

"I don't want you to lie to me either."

"If you had an ally, they could eliminate you, but they might also keep you alive longer. You just don't know until you get into the arena; every year is different."

"What do you think the arena will be this year?" I ask.

"Not a desert. Or snow. They did those too recently. And probably not anything with buildings, since that was done in the last three years. But the Gamemakers are clever; they'll come up with something."

"But am I going to be okay?"

Shuttle looks from the window to me, and looks at me long and hard. "You've got the spirit to win, and you've got sponsors. If you're careful, you can."

I can breathe a bit easier when she says that. "Good. I was hoping you would say that."

"Where's you been?" Shuttle and I both jump when the slurred voice comes from behind us.

"Oh my god, what happened to you?" Shuttle says, leaping out of her chair. Postumius's suit has been ripped, his orange makeup is smeared across his face, and he looks really, really out of it.

"The party ended, but everyone was gone!" Postumius says, lurching over to a chair and collapsing on it. He's still very, very drunk; I can smell him from where I'm sitting. What happened to him? It's kind of funny; I'm trying to hold the giggles in.

"Woven! Woof!" Shuttle yells without taking her eyes off of the escort. His hair isn't curly anymore either; it's gone flat and greasy. "Come here now!"

Woof comes barrelling down the hall, with a fierce look on his face; his eyebrows are all scrunched together and his eyes flash. Woven's close on his heels, followed by Terra and Azlon. Terra looks really confused. Azlon looks bewildered too, but he's trying to hide it.

"What the hell happened to you?" Woof says. He's usually a perfect gentleman; a gruff gentleman, but a gentleman nevertheless. He looks absolutely sick and tired of Postumius now, though. I think we all are.

"You left me at the party!" Postumius says indignantly. I can't help laughing; smothering the giggles behind my hands.

"That's it!" Woof says, taking two long strides to Postumius and lifting him up by the shirt collar. "I have been dealing with your nonsense for seven years, and I have had it!"

"You will put me down now!" Postumius says.

Woof lets go and drops the escort back onto the chair. "You are not to touch another drop of alcohol as long as you're here, do you understand me?" he half speaks, half shouts. "And mark my words, you imbecile, I will have you fired and moved to another district, or out of the Games altogether, by the end of the year. So shut up and sober up."

Woof turns on his heel, shaking his head, and walks away, muttering, "What an ass."

Terra sees me trying not to laugh and quickly comes over, grabs my arm, and pulls me away down the hall. Opening my door, she pushes me in, then shuts the door behind us.

"There, you can laugh now." Immediately I start laughing the hardest I've laughed in weeks. She cracks a smile, then bursts out laughing too.

"I hope Woof does what he says he's going to and gets him fired," Terra says, wiping her eyes.

"Me too," I say, still laughing.

Once we're calmed down a little, she asks, "How did your session go with Shuttle?"

"She says I'm good to go!"

"Excellent. It's about lunchtime now, so why don't we head off and eat something before we come up for your interview angle?"

"Sounds good; I'm starving," I say.

"Let's go then."

** Terra Coppersmith **

My little sister has mischief glinting in her eye throughout lunch, which turns out to be thinly sliced beef, with mixed roasted vegetables, rice, and a dessert that jiggles, which I don't know the name of. Nobody's really talking, especially since there's a still very drunk Postumius sitting at the end, picking away at a potato. Honestly, I'm amazed he made it home by himself. Do escorts home, like pigeons?

"Pass the salt," Woof says in a monotone. Shuttle hands the small bottle over to him; he shakes it over his meat and slams it hard down onto the table.

"Good afternoon to you too," Woven says, looking at Woof. As amazing as it is to think about, she was once Woof's mentor. Back a thousand years ago, that is.

"Oh hush," Woof says, glaring at his plate and stabbing his meat with such force I think he might break the plate. It's obvious that he wants to put that fork through Postumius. And he could, I know he could. Are we not all experienced murderers at this table? Except for Iry and Azlon, of course. Postumius murdered his fashion sense a long time ago.

The people I killed haunt me; do they haunt the others? I see Calypso every night in my dreams, and Fletcher too. If she had aimed a little lower… I wouldn't be sitting here eating a roast. She would be a mentor in my place. My stomach tightens every time I think of her and Fletcher. Five years ago, this very day, that's when I really got to know Fletcher. When I knew I couldn't kill him, not ever.

And I didn't kill him, not really. He didn't die by my hand, but for my hand. He told me to win for him, and I did. I'm good at keeping promises; I hope I can keep this last one, and keep Iry alive long enough to wear the victor's crown.

If she doesn't win, then I'll die alongside her, and everything I've done in my life will have been for nothing.

Postumius sits there at the end of the table, staring blankly and taking tiny sips of water until the end of the meal. Woof doesn't even glance at him as he gets up. "Woven, you teach the boy his manners; I'm stepping out."

"Be good," Woven says.

"You're not my mother," he says, walking out of the room.

"I kept you alive; I'm darn near it!" Woven yells at him. Woof pokes his head around the corner and stares at Woven.

"You're three years older than me. I was wrong; you're my irritating older sister."

"Your older sister who kept you alive twenty years ago. You still owe me that favor!" Iry's smothering giggles again.

"If you haven't cashed it in yet, you're never going to," Woof says. "I'll be back in a few hours, or when the idiot's dead. Whichever comes first."

"See you in a few hours," Shuttle says. With that, Woof disappears around the corner, and a few seconds later I hear the elevator doors ding open.

"Right, Iry, you and I are going to go discuss your angle in your room," I say, pushing my plate away.

"What are you going to do, Shuttle?" Iry asks. Shuttle meets my eyes briefly, then lowers them.

"I have an engagement I have to be at."

"We'll be fine here," Woven says quickly. I know that Shuttle's engagement isn't a party like the ones I've been going to, and my heart breaks for her. I wish I could help her, but I don't have the power to.

"Let's go, Iry," I say, getting up and putting my napkin on the table. Iry follows suit.

"Did you really keep Woof alive?" she asks Woven before we leave.

"I did, and then the two of us kept Shuttle alive in her Games, and Shuttle and I kept Terra alive in _her_ Games, and now all four of us are going to keep you alive," Woven says.

Iry beams. "I appreciate that," she says.

"I'll see you later," I say, giving Shuttle a hug. She's my friend, and my mentor still. And my protector.

"See you. Have fun with Iry."

Iry bounces onto her bed, smiling. "So, what are you going to teach me?"

"I'm going to tell you what your angle is going to be onstage tomorrow."

"What's my angle again?"

"How the Capitol sees you," I say. Iry sits in front of me, half grown already. Thirteen years old. If I hadn't been victor, she would have grown up in the factories. Me winning stopped all that, and she grew up without much worry or care. I know she worries about me, but she shouldn't. She's too young still. But old enough to go into her Games, three years earlier than I did.

If the arena destroyed me at sixteen, what is it going to do to her?

"So, what's the plan?" she asks.

"You're going to be yourself," I say. "The Capitol will love you, and they do already, just because you're Iry Coppersmith. So you're going to be your sweet and cheerful self onstage. Harmless. Because you will be; you're not going to kill anyone else."

"I could be ruthless," she says, grinning. "I could pretend to be a vicious killer, and then they'd all sponsor me."

I laugh. "You, pulling off vicious? Leave that to the Careers; they play that best. Nobody's going to believe that you can't wait to get into the arena. Let them think that you're just a little girl, because you are."

"I thought I was a big girl. I'm thirteen, Terra, not nine."

"I know that. And you're not going to be helpless. Harmless and Helpless are two different things."

"How?" she counters.

"Playing harmless means that you wouldn't kill someone. Playing helpless means that you aren't capable of killing someone."

"Sounds like the same thing to me."

"Play innocent then," I tell her. "Innocent is easy to play. Just be yourself. Everyone's seen you on camera during those yearly interviews." I hate those interviews; they do a brief overview of all the victors and their families. I'm the only one with a family, though. Woof's usually off in voluntary solitary confinement, and Woven and Shuttle have both chosen not to get close with anyone else outside Victor's Village. But this year, the cameras didn't come. Not sure why. Perhaps the Capitol got tired of seeing District 8.

Iry's nodding. "I can play innocent. It'll be fun, won't it?"

"You'll like the interviews; you like to talk," I say, poking her in the side. She laughs.

"I do, don't I?" she says. "Okay, tell me what to do and I'll do it."

Her words come eerily close to the same ones I said five years ago, in my own interview session with Shuttle. The words are burned into my brain:

_"Tell me how, and I'll do it."_

_"I think you're already there."_

I wrap my arms around my sister and lean into her, feeling her aliveness. She leaves me in two days. My sister, who I promised I would always keep safe. She has to win, no matter the cost.

"Terra?" she says,

"Yeah?"

"I'll be okay. You don't have to worry about me," she says, but I hear the slight tremble in her voice.

"Oh Iry," I say, hugging her even tighter. "I'll _always_ worry about you."

Several hours later, I think she's got the innocent part down to a tee. "If you do that tomorrow night, then they'll love you, and fall over themselves trying to sponsor you," I tell her.

"I'll be good, you'll see," she says.

"You don't need any more coaching. You're ready to go," I say. "What do you want to do now?"

The past comes back to haunt me again, this time in the form of Fletcher Wellrock, who's asking me to go back to his room so we can get to know each other. A five year old ghost drifts through the halls of this apartment, coming after me at random moments.

_"I don't see how I can hate you in the arena. Come on, it'll be fun, and we won't have many more conversations with anyone in two days."_

Oh Fletcher, but we did have conversations; talks that lodged themselves in my heart and never left. He loved me, and I loved him, and now it's all over. I need to focus on Iry, not Fletcher. He's dead, and my sister is alive, and she's the most important thing to me. It doesn't stop my heart from hurting, though.

"What do you want to do?" I ask, blinking back tears so Iry doesn't see me cry.

"Tell a story. We've got all day," she says.

"Aren't you too old for stories?"

"Not the ones you tell. Tell me about Mother."

Iry doesn't remember our mother, since she died when Iry was born. I was eight, and my father was gone all day to the factories. So when Iry wasn't at a neighbor's house and I was at school, I took care of her. I was both mother and sister to her.

"She loved to sing," I say, trying to remember what I can of our mother. "She was beautiful. Mother looked more like you than me, if you ask me."

"What about when I was born? Tell me about that again." Iry's favorite story when she was little was how she was born. She never minded that Mother died at the end, because I never told her the end. Iry ages backwards in my mind, until she's that little baby again.

"I was there when you were born, and so was Father," I start. "And Mother asked to see you. So the midwife put you in her arms, and you stopped crying immediately."

"What did Mother say?"

"You know what she said," I tell her, teasing her.

"I know, but say it anyway. I like hearing it."

"Mother looked down at you, and she smiled. Then she said, 'You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Iry. We'll call her Iry, for your mother, Murdo.' I loved you as soon as I saw you."

"Don't forget the last part. It's my favorite."

"And outside, a rainbow streaked across the sky." A rare bit of beauty in District 8. I end the story there, because Mother weakened right after, and died ten minutes later. I miss her, but the loss has faded to a dull ache over the years. The pain of losing Father is still sharp; I miss him so much too.

Iry smiles, and flops backwards on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "And Father gave me her wedding ring, to remember her by."

"And you gave it to me before I left," I say, holding out the little ring on the chain I always wear around my neck.

"It gave you luck, didn't it?" she says.

"I think it did. I'm here, aren't I?" I say.

We're so quiet after I tell the story that we can hear the elevator doors open all the way across the apartment.

"Woof or Shuttle do you think?" I ask Iry.

"Woof," Iry says. "I think he'd come back first, because when Shuttle goes out, she stays out for a long time." Thinking about Shuttle hurts too, but I won't tell Iry that. She doesn't need to know everything about being a victor. When she wins, I'll protect her just like Shuttle and Woven have protected me.

"Let's go see, c'mon," I say. When I stand up, my right leg creaks a little. I hate the metal that replaced my leg, but what can I do about it? What's done is done, and it's just something I have to bear. Like how Woven bears her metal hip and pinned wrist. Or how Porter Tripp endures her everlasting stiffness of spine. We victors all have something to accept about our Games. I'm no different.

"I'll race you!" Iry says, mischief glinting in her eyes again, sitting up and sliding off the bed. I still marvel at how tall she is; just about as tall as I am now. She's not a little girl anymore, is she?

"I'll win, you know I will," I say. My sister means the world to me, and I would bring the world down around us all to keep her alive. And I will, if need be.

"Go!" she says, laughing, and I run after her out of the bedroom.


	18. An Unexpected Beauty

** Nell Slatefield **

"There's not much of a point in coaching you for your interviews." That's what Seeder said yesterday morning, and I think she was pretty right about it. "I know you're going to do whatever you choose onstage, and there is not a thing I can do about it."

"You're pretty darn correct," I said, grinning. The other tributes can get bossed around and controlled by the Capitol, but there's no way I'm letting them. I'm playing these Games on my terms, and nobody else's.

"Just… just don't do anything insane like yell at the President again," Seeder said, rubbing her forehead. Lotem's been a good boy the whole time we've been here, and it's grating on my nerves a little.

"Is he going to be there?"

"No, but he'll be watching. Why did I tell you that, now you're going to do something stupid." Seeder buried her face in her hands and sighed. "Please don't yell at the President."

"I've already done that; I won't do it again." It's funny, I keep doing things I probably shouldn't do, like talk to the President, or tell off the Gamemakers in my private session. And I keep getting away with it. In fact, I scored the second highest mark in the Games, a 10, being beaten only by Trestle. And what's a little friendly competition?

"Lord, now I have to worry about what you haven't done and might possibly do," Seeder says. "Just don't do anything completely insane that can wreck your chances of getting more sponsors."

"I won't."

"Thank you. Now, Harvest, what's the story you've come up with for Lotem?"

Harvest cleared his throat. "He volunteered because he's always wanted to compete in the Games, and this year he's decided to seize the chance."

"Basic, but you can build on it," Seeder said. "It's better than his 'volunteer because his mother told him to' story. Right, Lotem, you'll be with Harvest for four hours to work on content, and Taizy for four hours to work on camera etiquette. Have that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And what did I tell you about calling me ma'am?"

"Sorry, Seeder." Lotem is patient and really, really laidback. He's easy to get along with, but I wonder how that easygoingness is going to work out in the arena.

"And what about me?" I asked.

"You, girl, can run along and do what you want today. You're not going to listen to anything we teach you, so what's the point?"

It actually turned out to be a pretty boring day. Without Training, there wasn't much to do besides eat my fill of Capitol food, practice handstands and cartwheels, and flip through the channels on the television. All useless propaganda. By the end of the day, I was tired and bored, and happy to sit and listen to Seeder talk at the dinner table.

"Make them like you, that's the most important thing. If they like you, or if they're impressed by you, then they'll spend their money on you and keep you alive. And try not to make a target of yourself, Lotem," Seeder said.

"Don't you have to worry about me too?" I asked.

"You've already made a target of yourself, Nell. There is nothing I can do to help you with that. I can wish you luck, but that's about it."

But that was yesterday. Today is the day of the interviews, and then tomorrow the Games start. I don't know how I feel about it. Terrified, I guess, but I'm going in to find Trestle and then we can go off and have an adventure. That's what I'm hoping is going to happen, anyway.

"Wake up, sleepyhead! We're here!" I groan and pull the covers over my head, trying to block out the fact that Opal and my prep team are here, waiting at my door. Unfortunately, they find me anyway and pull the blankets off.

"Let's make you beautiful!" Opal says, beaming overenthusiastically at me.

Less than ten minutes later, they've got me sitting up at the end of the bed, freezing in my pajamas because they won't turn the heat up.

"It's cold in here, just adjust the temperature!" I say, trying to pull my face away from Aurelia's grip. She's powdering something over my face and it's making my nose tickle.

"The temperature is just fine in here," Opal says, distracted by something else.

"For you it is, because you're from the Capitol. I've grown up in District 11, where it is WARM all year round," I say.

"Quit talking and let me do my job!"

"Fine!" Unwillingly, I sit still while blue dyed Aurelia paints my face. Kinny, the dark-skinned woman who's tattooed all over with pictures of fruit, paints my nails, and Rolo, the man who's covered in paint splatter tattoos, does my hair.

"That's hot!" I complain as Rolo comes close to my head with something very hot that sizzles.

"Sit still, Nell, or you'll be burned!" he says. Even he speaks with a high-pitched accent. I wonder why they all got together and decided to talk like that; every sentence they speak comes out sounding like a question.

"What are you doing anyway?" I ask. Aurelia has me facing directly front so I can't see what's going on behind or to the side of me.

"I'm straightening your hair."

"What was wrong with my curly hair?" I say. I've always liked my curls; why are they taking them away?

"It's not the look I'm going for tonight. Now quit complaining," Opal snaps.

"Will I get them back?" I ask.

"When you wash your hair. Be quiet!"

I fold my arms and sit as still as I can for the next couple _hours_. The amount of time they're taking to get me ready for tonight seems twice as long as when I was in the Prep Center. What outfit are they going to put me in tonight? _Please don't let me be naked again._

"When can I move again?" I ask, my eyes closed so Aurelia can paint my eyelids. I'm going to look ridiculous when this is all over. Auntie would never stand for it, I know that. I remember one time when Rosa was maybe fourteen, and she liked a Branches boy, and she had stolen a cherry to juice and make her lips red, so he'd think she was pretty. Auntie was furious.

"You are prettier without the cover ups, girl! You're not a Capitol girl, you are a Roots girl, and Roots girls don't put red on their lips or on their cheeks. They're pretty because their good hearts shine through their faces. You let that boy go, Rosa; if he wants a Capitol girl, he can go to the Capitol to get one."

Here in the Capitol, they want everyone to look like a Capitol person, I guess. I know I do right now. I can't wait to wash it all off tonight.

"You can move soon. We're almost done," Rolo says soothingly, pulling my hair back. He's pulling too hard, and it hurts.

"Alright, get her up, but don't let her open her eyes yet; she'll ruin the liner," Opal says. Rolo and Kinny help me stand up, each taking an arm. "And pajamas off!"

"Hey!" I say, pulling away, but two against one isn't fair, and within a few seconds I'm standing naked in front of my prep team again.

"Put your arms up, Nell," Opal commands, and I do as I'm told. The quicker this is over, the better. The dress they put over my head is smooth and silky, and probably cost more than my house is worth back home. One of them does a zipper up the back, pulling the waist in tight. Someone else straps something onto my feet.

"What are you putting on me?" I ask.

"Sandals, to go with the dress."

"Can't I just go barefoot?"

"No."

I dislike the shoes; my feet were made to be free, not trapped inside cloth. The tips pinch my toes. After a few more minutes of poking and prodding and adjusting, Opal says, "You can open your eyes now, Eleanor."

Opening my eyes, I blink a few times before seeing myself in the floor length mirror. Me? That's me?

I'm beautiful.

I understand what they've been doing this whole time; my hair is straightened and the first sections pulled back slightly from my face, gathered in a blue tie at the back of my head. It's such a radical change from my usual curly hair that I just look in fascination at it for a minute or so. Then I see my eyes have been shaded with light blue and lined with black, which gives me an exotic look. They've painted my lips dark red, redder than the cherries we pick at home.

And the dress! The dress is a work of art in itself. It's greenish-blue, teal, with short straps and a flowing skirt, dotted with gold specks. It's beautiful; I'm beautiful, and I can't dislike Opal anymore, not after she's made me the stand out of the whole Hunger Games. Even the blue sandals on my feet don't bother me as much.

"Thank you," I say. "Thank you, it's beautiful."

Opal simply beams at me. "Good! You look fantastic, and it's all thanks to me!"

While they busy themselves doing something else, I just keep looking at myself. I don't look like the Nell who climbs trees in the Roots, or plays pranks in Training. I look just as beautiful as the girl from 7, but in my own way. For once, I don't feel like turning a cartwheel. I don't feel like Nell at all, actually. This dress, and tonight, belongs to Eleanor.

Seeder comes in, and stops in her tracks when she sees me. "Opal, you've exceeded my expectations," she says, coming over to me and looking me up and down.

"She cleaned up well," Opal says.

"And you got shoes on her; that's a miracle," Seeder continues.

"I'll take them off as soon as I can," I say, but I don't mean it. Not really.

"Not until after the interviews," Seeder says sternly, but I can tell she doesn't really mean it either. "I tell you, Nell, nobody is going to outshine you tonight while you're wearing that."

"They better not," I say. Tonight is my night; tomorrow is the start of the Games, but no matter what happens in the arena, I'll always have tonight and this dress to hold onto in my memories. Opal left my locket alone, and it goes well with the rest of the outfit, which I'm glad for. Oh Rosa is going to be so jealous when she sees me!

And maybe Auntie will smile, or make a comment about Capitol fashions, but I know she'll be just as pleased as I am, and Uncle won't say anything, but I know he's proud of me anyway. Rosa will steam in the corner of the town square, but she's missing me, I know that too. I miss her; I miss them all.

"Shall we go downstairs?" Seeder says, smiling at me. I smile back.

"Let's go."


	19. Something to Prove

** Astrid Clearwater **

We're all lined up backstage waiting to go on and take our seats. This year, behind the two main interview chairs, there're twenty-four chairs at the back of the stage where we're supposed to sit. Lucky us. I'm tired from the long day of prep, but still riding the elation that came from my high score in the private sessions.

Currently, I'm behind Dominicus from 2, who's dressed in a red suit that looks ridiculous on him. His district partner, Agrippina, is wearing a short orange and raspberry dress with a black bow. It actually looks alright on her. Circuit's behind me wearing a dark blue suit. He hasn't said a word all day; that I've heard at least.

Meanwhile, Sparkle's put me in an actually decent outfit: blue knee length dress covered in silver sparkles, short blue heels, and Lara and Spila put my hair up on top of my head in an elaborate braided bun. I think I look pretty, but the real showstopper is Elowyn, of course. Her dress is a thing of beauty: dark and light green with a long fluffy skirt, and roses covering it. Her stylist has let her hair stay loose, and she's just beautiful.

I cross my arms and shift from foot to foot as we're forced to wait. "Welcome back Panem, to the greatest show in the world!" Marcus Fireglen, the man who does the interviews and has been doing the interviews for probably ten years now, says, bouncing out on stage. I dislike him on the principal that he's from the Capitol, but he does his best with trying to make the tributes look good. I'll give him that.

"This year is the year of the 41st Hunger Games, can you believe it?" he says to the crowd, who cheer. Forty-one years. How many dead tributes is that? I do the math quickly in my head; I always was good at math in school. Not counting this coming year, where the people around me will die in a matter of days, it's 920 tributes who have died in the Games.

Not the best odds, is it? 960 tributes have gone in so far, and 40 have come out.

"Let's welcome out our previous victors!" Marcus cries, which is the cue for all the mentors and previous victors to go out onstage and take their seats, in district order of course. I see Beetee, quiet and reserved as always, walking out and nodding at the audience before sitting down, next to a District 2 victor that I vaguely recognize from television and past Hunger Games.

"And now, the moment you've been waiting for!" I take a deep breath. I just have to remember what Beetee told me, my angle that we worked on, and I'll be fine. I wish he would tell me if I have sponsors.

"The tributes of the 41st Hunger Games!" Like we're being pushed along by some sort of invisible hand, we walk out in district order onto the stage. I smile, like I'm supposed to do, but the pair from 2 don't do anything, while the District 1s blow kisses and wave to the audience. They're Careers; they can choose whether to love or ignore the crowd.

I sit down next to Dominicus, smoothing my dress out to keep the wrinkles at bay. This is the first time Mama and Axel will have been able to see me since the Tribute Parade, and I want to make sure they know that I'm okay. I'm confident, I'm going to win. I'm okay.

After a little bit more banter with the audience, Marcus calls up his first tribute. "Come on up, Tiara Softshield!" In the interviews, it's always the girl who goes before the boy; the opposite of the private sessions. Have to keep it equal, I suppose.

Tiara struts to the stage in six-inch pink high heels and a fluffy pink dress. I can guess her angle right now: glamorous.

"Hello, hello, Tiara! How are you today?" Marcus asks as she sits down.

"Just wonderful, Marcus. You have no idea how happy I am to be here in the Capitol, seeing all of you!" she says, blowing a kiss to the audience, who go wild. I don't really listen to her interview much, focusing instead on my shaking legs and hands. Don't want to be seen as weak, and I'm sitting directly next to a Career. I do register that Tiara's really good with a sword.

Next up is her district partner, Cloak. He's big, and popular with the audience because he's District 1, but I don't think much of him. A bit dull, if you want the truth.

Then it's Agrippina. "So, tell us Agrippina, why you weren't a volunteer, as tributes from your district often are?" Marcus asks. Agrippina crosses her legs and leans back in her chair.

"I'm only fifteen, Marcus. Why would I volunteer now instead of eighteen? That was what I was planning to do until my plans got disrupted. There was a girl who was supposed to volunteer; it was all arranged. Minerva Lampright. And she didn't," Agrippina says angrily. If she could spit venom, she would be right now. "Do you know what I'm going to do, Marcus?"

"No, tell us."

"I'm going to kill everyone in that arena, and then I'm going to get out and go home, and I am going to kill Minerva Lampright." There are some murmurs in the crowd. She's ambitious, I'll give her that. I wouldn't want to be Minerva, whoever she is, right now.

"Well now, isn't that against the law?" Marcus says, a bit troubled.

"I'll be a victor," Agrippina says sweetly. "When I'm victor, nobody will tell me what to do. I'm going to win, Marcus. I don't care how many throats I have to rip out to make that happen." When her buzzer goes, I can tell that Marcus is relieved. And now I have a newfound terror of the girl from District 2.

It's Dominicus who's called up next. My legs shake harder; it's _me_ next, after him. I find Beetee in the crowd, but he's not looking at me. I can get through this; it's only three minutes.

"So, Dominicus, you're a bit smaller than your average volunteer," Marcus says. Dominicus smiles.

"I don't think size is going to matter when I cut my opponents' throats," he says. His voice is high and a bit nasally, and it's painful to listen to. "I am going to bring honor to my district, and a new victor as well."

"I don't doubt you'll succeed," Marcus says. I'm reading him too; he's nervous around the Career tributes. Aren't we all?

Then it's Dominicus sitting down, and Marcus is calling, "Astrid Clearwater!" Time for me to stand up and make my way over, but my legs are shaking. I'm not sure I can stand up without falling down and humiliating myself.

Stop it, Astrid! You got a 7, you're not just a stupid and weak District 3 tribute. You're better than that. Before I realize what's happening, I'm sitting down in the plush seat across from Marcus, and my interview has begun.

"Astrid, welcome! How are you tonight?"

"I'm just fine, Marcus, how are you doing?" I say, giving my best winning smile. I really dislike this attention.

"I'm feeling wonderful! You know, you're the first person to ask me how I am tonight; I'm deeply touched," Marcus says, placing his hand over his heart.

"We can't forget about you, you know," I say, forcing a laugh.

"Now, you got a 7 in training. That's an excellent score for someone from District 3, you know."

"I know." I hope everyone at home is watching this and maybe feeling slightly impressed that I, Astrid Clearwater, beat the scores of most of our district's past tributes. Maybe I shouldn't care so much what they think, but I do.

"Can you tell us how you got it?"

"I can't tell you that; I need to keep some of my secrets, Marcus," I say. Nobody but Elowyn really knows what I can do with axes, and I'm going to keep it that way. I especially don't need the Careers knowing.

"A girl with a hint of mystery!" Marcus declares, and the audience applauds. I fold my hands neatly in my lap and wait for this to be over. I don't feel like myself right now, and it bothers me.

"Who do you have waiting for you at home?" he wants to know.

"My mother and my brother."

"How old is your brother?"

"He's six years old."

"Just a little tyke! I'll bet you made him a promise to come home, didn't you?"

"I did, and it's a promise I intend to keep."

"I have no doubt that you will. What do you think is going to be your biggest asset going into the arena tomorrow?"

 _Tomorrow_. I take a deep breath and let out a shaky laugh. "My best asset?" I say. "I'm smart. I'm going to be smarter than the rest of my opponents, and that's how I'm going to win."

"I'll bet you're good with electronics, seeing where you come from."

"I'm not saying," I say. I'm trying to play up the _clever_ angle that Beetee told me to go with, but it's tricky. "I want you all to be surprised when you see me in the arena." Am I saying the right things? I don't know.

"Do you think we'll be seeing you back here in a few weeks, Astrid?"

 _Deep breath._ "Yes. I'll be back, you'll see." _I'll be back once everyone else on this stage is dead._ Obviously, I don't say that, but I want to.

"I have complete faith in you," Marcus says, patting my arm. At least one person does.

"One last thing, Astrid."

"Ask away," I say, squeezing my hands together to stop the shaking.

"Do you have anything to say to the people of Panem, and more specifically, your family?"

I look out over the sea of faces in the audience, none of which I can really place or focus on. "I want my family to know that I'm alright, I'm happy, and I'll be seeing them soon. They don't have to worry about me."

"Then we won't worry either," Marcus says good naturedly. The buzzer goes and my time is up. Marcus gives me a hand to help me stand up, and cries, "Astrid Clearwater, District 3!"

I curtsy the way Delia taught me yesterday, and make my way back to my seat. Circuit looks up in alarm. His turn now. At least it's over, and I hope I did well. I doubt I'll hear much out of Beetee either way.

"Circuit Wallcry!"

As I sit down, Circuit stands up, tripping as Dominicus sticks his foot out. He and Agrippina snicker to each other. I'd love to punch Dominicus in the face, maybe break his nose or something, but I don't want to be too noticed quite yet. And it's against the rules. That too.

I'm still coming down off the rush of being on camera, and I only really tune in to Circuit's interview halfway through.

"Are you worried about your score, Circuit?"

Circuit blinks a few times, trying to find his words. It's embarrassing to watch, knowing he's representing District 3 as much as I am. "No. No I'm not. You don't know what my strategy is, do you?"

"I'm afraid I haven't gotten the memo," Marcus says.

"You don't know a thing, Marcus."

"Then I shall have the utmost faith in you, Circuit."

"Good. You better," Circuit says, then his interview is over too, and District 3 is done. When he comes to sit down again, he doesn't meet my eyes. He was just bluffing, I know he was; it was humiliating for him to get a 3 in training, so now he's covering up with false bravado. Everyone knows he's bloodbath material; he's just trying to retain a little dignity before he dies tomorrow.

Who on this stage will be dead tomorrow? While I think, the interviews continue.

"Kelpie Agan!"

** Shore Seawind **

I give Kelpie's hand a squeeze before she gets up, to make her feel a bit better about being on camera alone. Her stylist did a good job with her dress; it's green and blue and looks like an ocean or a waterfall or something. I'm no expert on fashion, but it's pretty. My own stylist, Augustus, put me in a sea-green suit. Most of the boys are wearing suits, I've noticed.

"Come on up here, Kelpie," Marcus says, holding his hand out to her. She smiles shyly and takes his hand, letting him lead her over to the interview chair. I sit in my own hardbacked chair and cross my arms. It's me next, and I'm looking forward to it. The District 5 girl next to me, the one with the brown hair, keeps looking at me nervously out of the corner of her eye.

"Kelpie, how are you tonight?" Marcus asks.

"I'm really well, Marcus, thank you. It's nice to be here," she says, smiling still.

"What's been your favorite moment in the Capitol so far?"

"I think… maybe the Chariot Rides. I liked the horses."

Marcus laughs a little, but it's not mean. "Those horses are so well trained, aren't they?"

"And pretty too," Kelpie says, her smile becoming less nervous.

"How do you feel about tomorrow?" Marcus asks.

"A little nervous, I guess, but everyone's nervous." Not me. I'm going in as one of the privileged ones. I feel really sorry for Kelpie, though; Mags's and my talk keeps popping into my head. Kelpie's not going to go far, but I'm supposed to make sure she goes out peacefully. How, I don't know.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Marcus says reassuringly.

"I've got a good team of allies, and that will help. I'm not going in alone," Kelpie says.

"Ah yes, I see your allies behind you, what a dazzling display." I look over and see Aggie and Tiara smiling for the camera that's zooming in on them.

"They'll make sure I'll be alright," Kelpie says with conviction. I want to put my head in my hands. She's naïve, and that's the saddest part. Pretty but naïve, and I think Mags is probably right about Kelpie having no chance.

"We only have a few minutes left, so before you go, tell us about who you're hoping to go home to," Marcus says, leaning forward.

"My parents and my baby brother, Sean."

"Well, Kelpie, I wish you all the luck in the world." The buzzer goes and Marcus helps Kelpie up, raising her hand in the air and shouting, "Kelpie Agan, Panem!"

Kelpie does a bow, her loose hair falling in her face, then she comes back over to sit next to me again. She's flushed, but not crying, and that's the best you can hope for with her.

"Next we have, also from District 4, Shore Seawind!" The audience claps as I stand up, waving to them. Aggie pokes my leg as I go by, laughing. I ignore her. Reaching Marcus, I shake his hand, then sit down opposite him.

"Hello Shore! How are you tonight?"

"I can't be better!" I say, gesturing to the audience. "How can I not be at my best when I have all these wonderful people cheering me on?"

"I hope you include me in those wonderful people," Marcus says, pretending to pout. I reach out and pat him on the arm good naturedly.

"You know I do, Marcus."

Mags told me to play up the confident angle; that is not difficult at all for me. I am confidence itself tonight.

"Shore, I heard a rumor that you are a fisherman. Is that true?"

"I don't know who's telling my secrets, but I'd like to know, so I don't ever tell them anything again," I say, joking.

"Well, I don't know who, but are they correct?"

I nod. "They are. I've been a fisherman all my life, alongside my Da."

"How do you like the lifestyle?"

"It's the only one for me, Marcus."

"Do you think you could adjust to the lifestyle of a victor?"

"Who says I can't do both?" I say, and the audience applauds again.

Marcus leans in further to me, smiling. He's a bit frightening to look at, what with his blue dyed hair, multiple piercings in each ear, and tattoos curling around his cheeks. "So, do you have someone special waiting for you at home?"

I smile. "Like who?"

"Do you have a special girl or boy waiting for you at home?"

"I'll tell you something, Marcus," I say, leaning in towards him. "The day I got reaped was the day I became an engaged man."

Marcus sits back in surprise. "Oh, well done Shore! Congratulations!" The audience is cheering and clapping for me; clapping for me and Thalassa. That's for you, I think, trying to beam my thoughts to her. She's watching this right now; I know she is.

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Her name is Thalassa, and she is the most wonderful and beautiful girl in the world," I tell him. It's the honest truth.

"I'll bet you're going to try really hard to get home to her," Marcus says.

"I intend on marrying that girl, so yes."

"Congratulations again, Shore. But continuing on, how do you feel about tomorrow?"

"I'm ready," I say. "I'm so ready. You just watch, Marcus, you'll be seeing me again, on this stage, wearing a crown before you know it."

"I believe it, Shore. If anyone can win this year, I think you're a strong contender. But I'm not allowed to pick favorites, you know!"

"Oh I know," I say. "Just don't be surprised when I'm back."

"I won't be in the slightest."

The buzzer goes off then, and the interview is over. "Good luck to you, Shore," Marcus says, shaking my hand one last time. "We'll see you soon."

I stop on my way back to my seat and look out at the cameras. I blow one single kiss and call, "I love you, Thalassa!" The crowd goes insane, cheering and calling out and clapping. Ignoring them all, I keep walking back to my seat, as the girl from 5 is announced.

"Hazel Ashwing!"

** Iry Coppersmith **

"Do you like it?" Damius showed me the dress he was going to put me in, and I was absolutely delighted. "It's silk."

"It's beautiful," I said, feeling the smoothness of the fabric.

"Let's put it on you so we can see how it looks," he said, and he and my prep team helped me put the dress on. It was even more beautiful on me. The skirt is a pale pink, embroidered with flowers; the top is silver with flowing sleeves and embroidered vines and roses. Lem braided my hair in two, tied at the ends with rose shaped barrettes.

"You're very pretty, Miss Iry," Damius said.

"Thank you! Thank you, Damius!" I said, hugging him. Terra came in to see what the commotion was all about, and she was as happy as I was. Am. I'm still pleased, even though I'm nervous now.

"You'll be a hit," she said, kissing my forehead.

"Did Damius give you a dress too?" I asked. Tonight she's wearing a long, purple dress, and it's pretty too.

"He was kind enough to lend me one," she said. Shuttle came in after her, in a blue dress and her hair put up on top of her head.

"Thank you for not making her look thirty," Shuttle said, looking me over.

"I would never do something like that, you know me," Damius said.

"I trust you," Terra said, smiling.

"We should go," Shuttle said from the doorway. "Woof, Woven, and Azlon are already at the elevators."

"What about Postumius?" I asked, following everyone out the door. Shuttle grinned.

"I think Woof may have locked him in his room. By mistake of course." I giggled. "He will understand that we couldn't wait for him. Let's go before he gets out."

At the elevators, Woof and Azlon were dressed in suits, Woof looking very reluctant to be in one; and Woven was dressed in a dark blue pantsuit. I don't think she likes dresses very much.

"You look nice," she said, kissing me.

"Let's go; I don't want him to catch up," Woof said, hurrying us into the elevator as soon as the doors opened. I couldn't help laughing again; it was such a funny situation.

Now that's all past; the dressing, the elevator ride, and the beginning of the interviews too. Now I'm sitting under some hot lights, listening to Mariana from District 6 stumble her way through her interview.

"Thank you, Mariana!" Marcus says, letting the girl leave the interview chair and head back towards us. The Careers trip her up, like they've been doing all night to the tributes they don't like. I don't like them!

"Let's welcome to the stage, Trestle Deadwood!" Trestle gets up, passing by Mariana as she comes back, and skillfully jumps over Aggie's feet. She glares at him, but he just shoots her a smile and goes to join Marcus up at the front. I'm so nervous for when my turn comes. I've grown up around cameras, but this one's different. This one is just for _me._

"Well, Marcus, I sure did not see myself here a couple of weeks ago," Trestle says, falling into the interview chair and leaning back. He's dressed all in black tonight, with his hair pushed off to one side.

"No? Where did you see yourself?" Marcus asks.

"Not here." Trestle smirks. Marcus coughs, then switches directions completely.

"So, that 11. Highest mark this year. How did you get it?"

"Just by being myself, my friend. Just by being myself. How could they give me anything less? I was aiming for a 12, but one can't be too perfect."

"Tell us a bit more about yourself. What do you do back home?" Marcus asks.

"Marcus, my friend, that's going a bit too far. Classified information, you know. I don't just let anyone know everything about me. A man of mystery, that's me."

"Well, can you tell us anything about yourself?"

Trestle smirks again. "I'm hard to catch. These ones here," he says, gesturing back towards the Careers, "Are going to want to kill me as soon as we get in the arena. They're too slow, though. I'm quick, and so is my ally."

"Who is your ally?"

"None other than the marvelous Nell Slatefield," Trestle says proudly.

"Do you two work well together?" Marcus asks.

"If we didn't, we wouldn't be allies, now would we?"

"I suppose you wouldn't. Do you have anyone waiting for you at home?"

"Classified information again, Marcus. No family, nothing to show or tell, and even if I did, I wouldn't. A man's got to keep his secrets when he's on live television, you know."

The look on Marcus's face is so funny; I want to laugh right now, but I know it's not a good idea. Terra doesn't want me to be a target, so I won't be. But Marcus looks so confused and unsure what to do; it's so funny.

The buzzer rings then, and Marcus looks so happy. "Thank you for joining us, Trestle, and good luck!"

"I'm not going to need it," Trestle says, then walks back to his chair.

"Alright, that was Trestle Deadwood! Are you enjoying yourself tonight, Panem?" Marcus calls into the audience, and they all cheer and clap. I'm enjoying myself too, honestly. It's fun listening to all the different tributes talk. Back home, interview night was always my favorite night of the Games.

"Since we're all enjoying ourselves, let's bring up Elowyn Applering!" The pretty girl from 7 is dressed in an even prettier dress; she walks gracefully up to the front. I'm happy that the Careers didn't trip her.

"How are you tonight my dear?" Marcus asks her.

"Very well, thank you."

"Are you nervous?"

"Not particularly. This is my first time on camera, though."

"It's your first time on camera? Let's give her a wonderful experience, shall we?" Marcus calls to the audience, who cheer again. Elowyn waves and smiles at them.

"May I say that you look absolutely exquisite tonight?" Marcus continues.

"It's very kind of you to say that," Elowyn says.

"I can't imagine how long it's taken you to grow your hair out that long!" Marcus says as he reaches out to touch it. If I was Elowyn, I would back away immediately. I hate people who aren't family touching my hair.

"It's never been cut. My mother always liked my hair, so I left it long." Elowyn sweeps her long loose hair back behind her shoulder where Marcus can't get at it.

"Now, what's your feeling being here in the Capitol? How are the nerves for tomorrow?"

Elowyn takes a deep breath before answering. "I'm nervous, to tell the truth. I'm repeating what my sister did two years ago, but I hope my outcome will be better than hers." Everyone goes quiet.

"Do you mean to say that your sister was a tribute?" Marcus asks softly. Elowyn sits up straighter and tosses her hair behind her again.

"She was. Guinevere Applering. She came when she was sixteen, like me, and she died two days into the Games. Now I'm here, and I'm going to win in her memory."

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear about your sister," Marcus says. The crowd is still quiet.

"Thank you. I must get home, because my parents have no other children. I'm the only one left. I can't not return."

"Do you think you have the skills to go home?"

"Yes. I can win. I will win," she says firmly. I feel terrible about her big sister. What if Terra had never come home? I would be in the community home, and I'd be sitting here now without my sister. The thought brings tears to my eyes.

I pick at my nails and miss the rest of the interview, thinking about the Games, and Terra, and poor Elowyn's sister Guinevere. I finally come back from daydreaming and listen when the buzzer goes. Elowyn curtsies, then goes back to her seat, being replaced by her district partner, Kiril.

Kiril's actually kind of funny. "Do you think I could bring a book in as my token?" he says.

"A book?"

"I'm going to get bored in the arena, and when I'm bored I like to have a book on hand."

"I'm sure it could be arranged, but wouldn't it be difficult to carry around?"

"Don't you have some miniature books by now?" Kiril says, pretending to be surprised. "Whoever's in charge of making the books is missing a serious business endeavor here, Marcus."

Then the buzzer goes for him too, and it's _me._

** Terra Coppersmith **

"Iry Coppersmith, District 8!"

I grab Shuttle's hand and hold tight. Iry looks happy to be up there on the stage, but I'm so nervous for her. Maybe I took all her nerves for myself.

"She's fine," Shuttle whispers in my ear. "It's three minutes and then it's over."

"I know," I whisper back.

"Iry, how are you doing tonight?" Marcus asks her.

"I'm great!" she says. "It's been really fun listening to everyone else talk."

"You haven't been bored?"

"Absolutely not; interview night has always been my favorite night," Iry says, grinning.

"Aren't you glad you can be here for interview night in person, then?" Marcus asks. Iry nods.

"It's really fun being here, and it's even nicer that my sister is here with me."

"Ah yes, Terra. How has it been having a victor for a sister?" I grip Shuttle's hand tighter. I'm probably hurting her, but I don't care right now. Besides, I'm only gripping her with four fingers; it can't be that bad. I only _have_ four fingers on that hand.

Iry shrugs. "Normal, I guess. She won when I was eight, so I've had a lot of time to get used to it."

"And how do you feel being a tribute now?"

"It's a little scary, but Terra's promised me that I'll be alright. I trust her. She's never let anything happen to me, and she never breaks a promise."

"What are you most worried about going into the arena?" Marcus asks.

"My sister. She's going to make sure I'm okay, so I'm not worried about that. It's just, who's going to take care of Terra while I'm gone?"

I didn't know Iry worried so much about me. I can feel tears at the corners of my eyes; Shuttle wraps her arm around me and leans on my shoulder. "She's okay. We'll talk to her tonight." I nod, wiping my eyes.

"You sound like a good sister," Marcus says.

"I try to be. I want to win so I can go home and stay with Terra, and with my cat too."

"You have a cat?"

"Her name is Ribbons, and I love her so much," Iry says. "I miss her a lot right now, and I hope she's not too lonely. My Auntie Deecey is looking after her while we're away."

"That's nice of her, isn't it? I'm sure your kitty will be just fine. I have a cat too, you know," Marcus says.

"I didn't know that! What's its name?"

"His name is Bobble," Marcus says, laughing along with the audience. Iry giggles too.

"I like that name."

"I'm glad you do. I do too, that's why I named him that!"

"I named my cat Ribbons because she likes to try to eat them," Iry says.

"What a naughty cat! Now, the time is just tick-ticking away, so, before you go, tell us one last thing."

"Okay."

"Do you think you can win the Hunger Games?"

Iry sits up straight and looks Marcus right in the eyes. "Yes. My sister won't let anything happen to me, and I trust her. I'm going to be just fine, and I'm going to win. Don't you worry."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Marcus says, just as the buzzer goes off. Iry jumps up off the couch, curtsying like Shuttle taught her, then runs back to her seat next to Azlon. Now that her interview is over, I can breathe easier.

"She did well. Now we just have to get through Azlon and I can relax," Shuttle says in my ear. I nod, keeping my eyes on Iry. She did really well; I'm proud of her. But I'm also a bit ashamed of myself. I didn't know I affected my sister as much as I apparently do. I should be taking care of _her_ , not the other way around!

"Also from District 8, let's bring up Azlon Loombow!" On the other side of Shuttle, Woof shifts in his seat.

"Boy better follow through," he mutters.

"Shh," Shuttle says, poking Woof.

"Azlon, you got a 7 in training. Not a bad score for an outlying district, now is it?" Marcus asks once the two of them are settled in the chairs again.

"I wanted higher." Azlon is taller than Marcus, even while sitting down.

"What are you feeling about tomorrow?"

"I want these Games over and done with sooner than later, so I can go home and go back to work," Azlon says. His answers are short and to the point. You won't see any gushing coming out of him. The whole time he's on stage, he doesn't smile, or even acknowledge the audience. Despite that, I can tell they like him. Or at least are interested in him. He's strong and evidently powerful. Now that they've seen our tributes properly, I wouldn't doubt we'll be getting more sponsors.

Marcus doesn't get a lot out of Azlon before the buzzer sounds. Woof grunts next to Shuttle. "Was that the angle you worked up?" Shuttle mutters to him.

"He could have been a bit more talky, but he did well enough," Woof says. High praise from Woof indeed.

I feel really sorry for the girl from 9, Tilling. Twitchy and nervous, she doesn't look at ease the whole time she's talking to Marcus.

"What do you like to do best, Tilling?"

"Oh! I like to pick flowers and walk in the meadows by my house," she says, running one hand along the arm of the red velvet chair she's sitting in.

"Have any allies going in?" Marcus asks.

"No. No! I-I want to go alone. I work better a-alone." If what Iry told me is true, and I don't doubt it is, Tilling tried to ally with every single tribute, but nobody would have her.

"She's not going to last long," Shuttle whispers in my ear. I wish I could save this anxious girl, only fifteen years old, but I can't. I'm powerless to save anyone on that stage.

Reaper, Tilling's district partner, is tall, and I can tell he's really strong just by the way he carries himself.

"You're seventeen, aren't you, Reaper?" Marcus asks.

"I am. You're what, twenty-four?"

"Oh, you flatter me! You flatter me!" Marcus says, patting the boy on the leg.

"I do my best." Reaper gives a quick smile, which disappears almost immediately.

"So, what's your strategy going into the Games, Reaper?"

"Kill them all. I don't care who, don't care how. Every tribute is going to fall by my hand, and my hand alone," Reaper says. I can see the murderous glint in his eye from where I'm sitting, and I know this boy is dangerous. Iry has to hide, and hide well.

"She's going to be okay. She's going to win," I whisper to Shuttle.

"Iry will win. Don't worry Terra. We'll bring her home," she whispers back. Elm, on my other side, glares at us a little to make us stop talking. I don't care much.

I've got to bring Iry home.

** Nell Slatefield **

Being a tribute from District 11 is one of the worst things you can be in the Hunger Games, because in the Parade, and the Private Sessions, and now in the interviews, you're last. Not dead last, like the District 12s, but last enough that everyone is sick and tired of watching tributes mumble their way through their interviews.

Let's face it; nobody cares about the tributes from District 10. I don't, that's for sure. We're on Byron right now, and he hasn't been able to give an intelligent answer for the past two minutes or whatever it is. I'm next. I don't think I'm nervous; I'm here to give them their show.

"Thank you, Byron!" Marcus says, letting the skinny guy come back to his place beside me. "Now, I know we've all been waiting for her! The girl who got a 10 in Training- Nell Slatefield!"

This is me; I stand up and move past the long row of tributes, jumping over the Careers' feet as they try to trip me up. Bunch of morons.

"Hello Nell! How are you tonight?"

"I'd be better if they would stop trying to trip me," I say, pointing over my shoulder at the idiots sitting there.

"Well that's not very nice, is it?" Marcus says, sitting down opposite me.

"It's really not. They're probably just all jealous, that's all," I say, settling into the plush seat that's mine for the next three minutes.

"And what are they jealous of, do you think?"

I laugh. "What are they not jealous of, do you mean?" I'm running my mouth and I can see Seeder rubbing her forehead in the victors' section of the audience.

"Nell, it's wonderful to have you here tonight. You prefer Nell, don't you?"

"Eleanor is such a mouthful; Nell's suited me just fine ever since I was a kid," I say.

"I don't think any of us were surprised you got a high score, but the second highest for this year? How does that feel?"

"I think it feels just right. District 11's going to have a victor this year, and it's only right I have a good score for that, don't you think?"

"You've been creating quite a stir here in the Capitol, ever since your reaping. Your unofficial nickname is 'The Firecracker," you know."

"Good. I'm here to give you a show and make this a year you'll never forget," I say, smiling. "Everyone's going to remember my name, Marcus."

"I certainly agree with you. Why are you so driven to perform, though?"

I shrug. "I've always loved an audience, Marcus, what can I say? And now I've been given one, which is excellent."

"You gained quite an audience when you had a conversation with the President!" Marcus says. "I think that was a first."

"I think so too."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Talk to the President?" I shrug again. "Why not? He was there and he looked a good conversationalist. Good to talk to, you know?"

"It took a lot of courage to do that," Marcus says.

"Not really. It was fun." I don't tell him how nervous I was to do it, or about my shaking knees as I was talking to President Snow. I'm unstoppable Nell; they don't need to hear about my nerves.

"Let's talk about you at home. Who's waiting for you back in District 11?"

"My Auntie, Uncle, and cousin Rosa." I can't help but run my fingers over the smooth fabric of my dress. The gold flecks keep catching the light, and I love it.

"What about your parents?"

"They've been dead my whole life," I say. "I don't mind; I have a good family anyway."

"I'm sorry about your parents, but it looks like your aunt and uncle raised you well."

I grin. "I didn't make it easy for them. When I'm not working or helping my auntie, you'll usually find me up in a tree somewhere. I like being up high, but it drives my auntie crazy."

"You will be careful in the arena, won't you?" Marcus asks.

"Of course I will. I'm coming back here to sing you a song when I win."

"I'll be looking forward to that for sure, Nell. One last thing before the buzzer sounds: How ready are you to go into the arena tomorrow?"

I stop fiddling with my skirt and look Marcus dead in the eyes. "I'm readier than you think. I can do this. I'll win."

"And we'll be waiting for you here when you do." The buzzer sounds and Marcus helps me up. That was my interview, but it's not enough. This is my last chance to address the audience; last time on camera without somebody trying to kill me.

"And don't forget to sponsor me!" I shout into the crowd, getting some laughter. After blowing a kiss, I make my way back to my seat between Byron and Lotem. "Don't you dare trip me," I hiss at Agrippina.

"You're dead as soon as that gong sounds," she hisses back. I smile sweetly at her, then take my seat; Lotem looks at me out of the corner of his eye, unsure what to make of me. Good.

"Lotem Raanan!" Lotem stands up and walks down towards Marcus; I notice that the Careers don't trip him up on the way, though.

He plays up the 'passionate about volunteering' bit really well, actually; you'd never even think it was an act. Lotem's dull to me, though, so I barely listen to him, instead choosing to look out into space and think.

"Yeah, I promised my sisters I'd come home, and I will. I'll get them that big house they've always dreamed of, and life will be good, Marcus," Lotem says, right before the buzzer sounds.

"Good luck to you!" Marcus says, sending my district partner back to me. Finally, it's the last district and then we can all go home. My feet are twitchy from sitting still for so long. I just want to _go._

But first there's the black-haired girl from 12, dressed in a short black dress with heavy eyeliner. _Thank goodness I didn't get her stylist._

"Celosia, what a pretty name!" Marcus says.

"My mother said that she couldn't give me much in life, but she could give me a fancy name," Celosia says. "I'd prefer food and a proper house, but that's just me."

"How do you feel about entering the arena tomorrow?"

"I'm going to surprise you," is all she says. "I'm going to really surprise you."

"I'm looking forward to that!" Marcus says. "I do love surprises."

Celosia sits back in her chair and smirks, her arms crossed. "Good."

Celosia got an 8 in Training, which means she's no pushover. I'm tempted to ask Trestle if we can let her into our alliance, but he'd never go for that. It's going to be him and me in the arena, against the other twenty-two tributes. We can do it! We'll be fine. If I keep telling myself that, then I'll really believe it.

The last tribute is the silent and terrified Fissure, who says almost nothing in his interview. And then, finally! Marcus is standing up, and, on cue, we tributes stand too, waiting to hear the anthem. I hate the anthem; it's an awful tune, and I don't feel any real affection to the Capitol. They've brought me here to die, after all.

"The 41st Hunger Games begin tomorrow!" Marcus cries to the applause of the crowd. "Don't forget to turn on your televisions at 10 am sharp, so you don't miss a second! Goodnight, Panem!"

The Careers push through, shoving the rest of us to the side as they hurry towards the elevators. Their mentors follow quickly behind them, getting into the elevators before the rest of us can even get a chance to move.

"You did alright," Seeder says, appearing out of nowhere. "You didn't humiliate yourself, which is a good thing."

"I never have humiliated myself, Seeder," I say.

"Let's go up to the apartment," Lotem says, speaking up for once.

"Once it's died down a little. No sense in pushing our way through," Seeder says, looking around. "There you are, Harvest; I thought I'd lost you for a minute."

"See you tomorrow," Trestle says, winking at me as he goes by with his own mentors. I wave, but he's already gone.

"Nell," Seeder mutters in my ear.

"What?"

"I know you've allied with that boy, but I'm telling you now: don't trust him."

"Why not?" I ask, pulling away from her.

"He's trouble, I can see it in his eyes. Trouble is written across his face and he's not going to help you win."

"You don't know that!" I say.

"And you do?" Seeder raises an eyebrow at me.

"Whatever. Let's just go up." I start to walk away from my team, but they catch up to me anyway.

"It's your life, Nell," Seeder says. "If you want to throw it away, that's up to you."

"Let's go!" I say. Seeder goes quiet; after muscling our way through the mob, we finally manage to get into the elevator. It's a quiet and uncomfortable ride up.

When the doors open, I start out for my room right away. "Nell, wait."

"What?"

"I'd like to say goodbye," Seeder says. It's awkward, how we're all standing around in the area around the elevator, nobody knowing quite what to do. I'm confused, to be honest.

"Don't we say goodbye tomorrow?" I ask. This is the last night, don't we say goodbye to our team in the morning?

"Your stylists will be going with you to the Launch Room tomorrow. Mentors and escorts stay behind." Seeder looks really young all of a sudden. How many times has she had to say goodbye to the tributes who came before me? And almost none of them came back. What if I never see Seeder again?

"Then we say goodbye now," I say. Then I surprise everyone by launching myself into Seeder's arms. She hesitates briefly, then hugs me back.

"There, there Nell. You'll do just fine," she says.

"I know." I pull back and meet my mentor eye to eye.

"You're the gem I've been waiting for," Seeder says, patting my hair. "Go out there and give them hell."

"That's the plan," I say, grinning. Lotem's shaking Harvest's hand. The mentor stays quiet and stoic throughout their goodbye. Taizy grabs hold of Lotem next, hugging him tightly.

"Good luck!" she chirps at him, then turns to me. I don't want to hug her, but I do anyway, pulling back as soon as I can from her whiskers. I really don't like Taizy.

"Thanks for everything," I tell Harvest. I don't know him very well, but he nods his head at me.

"Good luck," he tells me.

"Thanks."

"You two both need your sleep. It's going to be an early and long day tomorrow," Seeder says. Lotem and I look at each other; this is one of the last moments we're going to have where we're not enemies trying to kill each other.

"Goodnight then," he says, turning and leaving like a good boy would do. I linger, watching him go. Harvest leaves then too, and Taizy. Leaving just Seeder and me behind.

"I can do it, can't I?" I say, looking at my mentor.

"You've got the spunk to do it," Seeder says. "I don't see why not."

"I'm going to be fine. Just- just don't forget about me in there, okay?" I say, panic starting to rise in my chest a little.

Seeder grabs my shoulders. "Trust nobody, Nell, except yourself. You're the only one who matters in the arena. Keep yourself safe, and I'll help keep you alive. Got it? And stay away from the Cornucopia."

"I've got it."

Seeder smiles. "Then you'll do just fine. You've been one of my most memorable tributes, Nell. You'll go far, I have no doubt."

"I'll see you when I win," I tell her, starting to back away towards my bedroom.

"I'll see you then," she says. I turn and walk towards my room; I need to take a shower and wash all this makeup off of me. And get my curly hair back. I wish I could keep the dress; maybe Opal will let me have it when I win.

Right before I open my door, I look back. Seeder's still standing there, watching me go. She gives a little nod. Then I enter my room and shut my door.


	20. Last Night

** Astrid Clearwater **

"So this is it," I say, breaking the silence that's fallen over us. "This is where we say goodbye."

"It is." Beetee reaches forwards and shakes first my hand, then Circuit's. "It's been a pleasure to work with you two, and I wish you luck in the weeks ahead." I glance over at Circuit; he's not going to make it through tomorrow, let alone the next few weeks.

"Thank you for everything," I say, and I mean it. Beetee's been a good mentor, and I've liked him.

"Do you have any last-minute instructions?" Circuit asks anxiously. Beetee looks long and hard at him.

"Keep out of the way of the Careers. They might not be the biggest threat to you this year, but they're still a threat, and they're well trained. Keep away from the Cornucopia; it's traditionally a Career base." Circuit nods; I can tell he's trying to memorize everything, to hold onto when the gong sounds. "Beyond that, so much of what happens in the arena is luck. And you two will need it."

Delia Charm, still wearing that cloud blue wig, hugs me. "You've been a lovely girl to work with, Astrid. Good luck."

"Thank you," I say, trying to smile at her. She hasn't been so bad either.

"Good luck, Circuit," she continues, hugging my district partner.

"Go get some sleep. Your stylists will be collecting you early. I'll see you on the other side," Beetee says. Circuit shakes his hand one last time, then walks quickly to his room. Delia wipes away a tear and heads to her own room, leaving just Beetee and me.

"You too, Astrid," he says.

"Can I ask just one thing?" I ask, starting to walk towards the hall.

"Yes."

"Do I have sponsors?"

Beetee looks at me, then cracks a small smile. "Yes."

I smile too, then. "Good. Thank you."

"Good luck, Astrid."

"Thank you. For everything."

In my room, I head straight to the shower, washing away all the makeup and hair products Sparkle and her team put on me. Returning me to Astrid, just plain Astrid. Getting out, I use the current to dry my hair, then go to my wardrobe to pull out a soft white nightgown that comes to my feet.

I stand at my window for a few minutes, looking down at the streets that are still so busy. Is this my last view of the Capitol? More importantly, is this my last night alive? My last night to see lights and the sky and stars?

Will I even make it through tomorrow morning?

I can't look out the window anymore. I don't want to think about it; don't want to think about tomorrow. How is Mama doing? She must be worried about me, but she'll be keeping it together for Axel. Does he even understand what's going on?

Climbing into bed, I pull the thick and soft covers over my head, trying to block it all out. I got a 7; that means I'm good. I'm going to run tomorrow and not go into the bloodbath. Where am I going to run to? What's the arena going to be?

I have so many questions with no answers. All I can do is wait and see.

I dislike most people from my district, because they dislike me, but I wonder about them now. Are they cheering me on? I doubt they're rooting for Circuit, because he's a write off. But what about me? _My father might have been a Peacekeeper, but that didn't stop me from being reaped, now did it?_ If I ever get home, I'm going to ask Mama who my father really was. It's too late now.

There's not going to be sleep for me tonight; I can feel it. There's too much to think about, and worry about. But the bed is soft and the covers are warm, and it's probably the most comfortable I'll be for awhile. I'm safe here too, and that's being taken away tomorrow.

When I win, I'll be able to get Mama and Axel out of that leaky apartment and into a proper house. We'll never want for food, because I'll be rich. And District 3 will have to pay me the respects due to a victor. I think that might be the best victory of all.

Outside, a soft rain is falling and hitting the window. The sound is soothing, reminding me of all the times I've fallen asleep in my bed at home to the rain pounding on the windows and roof. District 3 is a notoriously rainy place. I hate it there, but right now I want to be home so badly it hurts.

_Please let me live._

** Shore Seawind **

I haven't heard it rain in the Capitol before, but it's raining now; the light rain turning into a heavier downpour. I've always liked the rain, except when a storm would come up when Da and I were out on the _Jewel_. I know I'm doing my duty by being here, and I'm glad I'm here, but I miss those early morning fishing trips with Da. Just him and me talking about nothing and everything.

I miss the girls greeting us when we got home, and Ma who would cook one of the fishes we brought home, after giving me a hug. I miss jesting with Hake, and with the other fishermen on the dock. I miss seeing the sun rise over the ocean, and the water itself. I hope wherever the arena is, there's water.

Most of all, I miss Thalassa. I have her necklace around my neck, and I hold onto the shell, hold onto my last piece of her. When I get home, we'll get married, and we'll have a beautiful house; I won't have to work on the boats anymore, but I will anyway, because I like to. And later, we might have some kids of our own…

I just have to win. I can do it; I'm Shore, the boy they chose to represent District 4. They _chose_ me, because they thought I would have the best chance. I'm here, and I'm going in tomorrow morning. Every eye in District 4 is going to be riveted to Kelpie and me.

Kelpie. She broke down as soon as we got upstairs; Glass was so disgusted with her that she left and we didn't get to say goodbye. Mags hugged Kelpie, though, and I think it helped. I hope Aria is happy at home, watching Kelpie go in instead of her.

It's after midnight and I can't sleep. Maybe a walk will do me good. Throwing off the blankets, I get up, stretching, and walk into the hallway leading to the living room. It's dark in the living room, but the light from the Capitol gives the room more of a grayscale look. I can see to get around, but nothing in much detail. I don't need much detail to sit and think, though.

"What are you doing up, Shore?" I startle when I hear Mags's voice.

"Can't sleep." The windows are soaked with rain, making the Capitol lights look streaky.

"You should try; you won't get many chances in the arena." Mags comes into the living room, wrapped in a blanket.

"I thought a walk would help," I tell her as I sit on the edge of one of the couches.

"Are you nervous?" she asks, perching on the edge of a chair opposite to me.

"Maybe a little," I admit. "I want to get back to my fiancée and my family."

"I think you will," Mags says, looking out the window. "Just keep your head."

"I doubt I'll go insane in the arena."

"Oh you never know. There's always one," she says lightly. I can hear the smile in her voice, then she starts to chuckle a little. Her laughter is infectious, and I can't help laughing too.

"I won't go crazy, you know that," I tell her.

"I know." Mags looks at me, her face shadowed so I can't make out her features very well. "I've enjoyed getting to know you, Shore."

"Thanks for picking me as your tribute," I reply. I wouldn't want to be under the thumb of Glass or Riptide.

"I always choose the boys. They offer me more of a challenge," she says.

"How so?"

"You boys are almost always so self-assured and you want to take on the world. You're invincible. There's exceptions, but the majority of them are like you."

"I'm not invincible, Mags."

"Good, you realize that. Some didn't, and they didn't end well."

"Are you trying to scare me?" I joke. "Because I'm not getting scared."

"We're going to bring you home, Shore," Mags says. "I'm confident in that. I truly believe you can win if you play your cards right. You're in the biggest alliance, so you will go into the bloodbath tomorrow alongside the others. Don't get killed in that."

"I'll do my best."

"You'll have the best supplies, which means you'll have the best chance of survival with food in mind. Find water; that's vital. You can't live more than three days without water."

"Anything else?"

"Don't trust your allies," she says seriously. "As I've said before, they're out to win for themselves, not you. So be smarter than them, and win."

"How come you didn't tell me this stuff before? You didn't know I would come out tonight, so why wait until now?" I ask. Mags's face is hidden in darkness, but I can still see her smile.

"I knew you would come out. Tributes don't sleep much the night before the Games. But you should try, Shore. Long day tomorrow."

Mags stands up, and so do I. "I'm looking forward to seeing you live in my neighborhood," she says, clapping me on the shoulders.

"Thank you. I've enjoyed our talks," I tell her.

"Good. We'll have many more. I won't see you tomorrow, so be safe, and good luck, Shore. I'm confident you can win."

"See you on the other side," I say, starting for my room again. After the talk we just had, I'm feeling tired, which is a good thing.

"On the other side," Mags replies. And I can hear the smile in her voice.

** Iry Coppersmith **

What sort of arena is it going to be this year? I'm terrified of it being a tundra, after what happened to Terra in her Games. A meadow? A city? The Gamemakers could have made the arena anything. Maybe it will be that cake Terra was talking about.

Apparently, I won't see her tomorrow, but I know my sister will find a way to say a last goodbye before Damius takes me up to the roof. Saying goodbye to the others was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

"You'll do amazing," Woven said, hugging me. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay. I'm going to miss you!"

"I'm going to miss you too, Iry. You be good and safe now."

"I'll try," I told Woven.

Shuttle sat down and pulled me over to her, wrapping her arms around me tight. "You're a wonderful girl, Iry. We'll bring you home. I promise, we'll bring you home."

"I love you," I whispered to her. "Take care of Terra, okay?"

"I will."

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll be back. I'll hide and they'll never catch me, and then I'll win."

"That's the plan," Shuttle said, giving me one last kiss. Woof shook my hand instead of hugging me like the others.

"That's a girl. We'll bring you home," he said. Azlon had already said brief goodbyes to everyone; now it was just my turn to say my last words to my family. Woven was wiping away tears when she thought I couldn't see; Shuttle's face was set in a tight line, the face she makes when she's trying not to cry. She said she believed I could win, so why was she crying?

After Woof, it was Terra's turn. "I don't want you to worry about me," she said, her voice cracking. "I'll be fine. I'm going to make sure you don't want for anything in the arena. You'll be just fine."

"Promise me that you won't go a little crazy," I said, only half teasing. I worry about my sister, I really do.

"I promise. As long as you're alive and kicking in there, I'll be fine."

"Okay."

I'm scared of the rain outside; it's pounding against my window like it wants to get in. I want to be home so badly, in my room that's painted pink, with the big bed that has the canopy over it. My bookshelves with the brightly colored novels. My rug that's soft and fluffy, where Ribbons likes to sleep. Ribbons. I miss my cat! I miss Deecey and Alex, and Eli, and my friends, and school…

I want to go home.

What if I don't go home? What if I die in the arena tomorrow, and Terra has to watch me die, and Shuttle and Woven and Woof, and then Terra will be alone, and I'll be gone. I could die tomorrow!

I need to find Terra.

** Terra Coppersmith **

_"I don't want to hurt you! Back up!" I yell at the boy from District 11 as he approaches, knife in hand. "Get back!"_

_"Terra, over here!" I turn quickly to see Fletcher, standing a distance away by the Cornucopia._

_"Fletcher, look out!" I scream, but it's too late. The girl from District 2 stabs him and he disintegrates. Then the girl and the boy both morph into giant bears and attack me…_

What's that sound? I thrash around, trying to find a knife, a bow, _something_! It's a tribute come to kill me. I can't find anything to grab; I'm not going to die; I'm not going to let whoever it is kill me!

"Terra!" Suddenly I'm jolted out of my nightmare stupor, albeit very confused. Where am I? Right, the Capitol. Where's Fletcher?

Fletcher's been dead for five years. I know why he's haunting me tonight; five years ago, tonight, was the first time he kissed me. Five years ago, tonight, I fell for him, and set myself up for a lifetime of pain.

"Terra," somebody sobs again, and suddenly I'm fully aware of everything.

"Iry?" I say, and my little sister rushes into my arms, crying.

"I'm scared! I'm scared, Terra!" she says, holding me tight. I pull her up onto the bed closer to me, and just hold her, trying not to cry myself.

"I've got you. I've got you," I whisper in her ear.

"What if I die tomorrow? What if I don't make it?"

"You're going to make it. I'm going to make sure of that."

"I'm only thirteen! Terra, I'm scared!" she sobs, starting to shake.

"I've got you. Shh, Iry. I've got you," I say. "We're going to get you out of there."

"Don't make me go in! Don't let them take me tomorrow!" Iry says, suddenly pulling away.

I've devoted my whole life to taking care of my sister, and now I can't even keep her safe when she needs it most. I've failed. What would our parents say? Even if they were alive, they would be just as helpless as I am right now. I hate being a victor most of the time, but right now I'm glad I won. If I hadn't, then Iry would be here alone.

Of course, I doubt her being chosen was random. If I hadn't won, then she might not even be here.

"If I could, I'd take you home right now," I whisper. "But we've got to see this through. Think of it as an adventure, okay? And just run, run away from the others. I know you're going to be fine. Nobody's going to hurt you."

"What if they do?"

"They won't. I promise. I don't break promises, do I?" Iry shakes her head.

"You'll come home and Ribbons will be so happy to see you. And you can always live in Victor's Village with Shuttle, and Woven, and Woof, and me." My words feel hollow. How can I ensure my sister lives through the next few weeks when there's going to be twenty-three other tributes wanting to kill her?

"If I die," Iry starts.

"You're not going to die."

"If I die, please take care of Ribbons for me."

"Of course I will, but I'm not going to have to," I tell her.

"And give Deecey and Eli and Alex my love."

"Again, you're going to tell them yourself."

"And I love you, and you're the best sister in the world," Iry says, hugging me again, her head pushing my necklace into my chest. Suddenly, I'm inspired.

"Iry, remember how you gave me your necklace before I left for my Games?" I ask. She nods. "It brought me home." Pulling back, I unclasp the necklace and ring and put it around her neck.

"You're giving it back?" she asks, feeling the ring on its chain.

"Your token. Mother will be with you, and she'll help bring you home. Okay?"

"Thank you," Iry whispers.

"You are going to come home," I say firmly. I can't believe any other options; I need my sister to come home to me.

"Okay."

"I love you," I tell her.

"I love you too. Can I stay here tonight?" she asks.

"Of course."

** Nell Slatefield **

It's three in the morning and I _still_ can't sleep. The bed is soft, and I'm comfortable, but I haven't been able to drop off even once. And I'm going to need my rest for tomorrow. I keep thinking about the interviews and how they went. I saw the recap after I had a shower and got my curly hair back; I looked good onstage. Better than a lot of the others, if I say so myself.

Rolling over, I cover my head with a silky pillow. Back home, most people don't have pillows. It's a luxury nobody has time or the resources for. I had one, though; flat after twelve or so years, but still precious to me. And worth almost nothing to anyone else. Mamma made it for me, when I was little. Patchworked and lumpy, but with my name embroidered on the corner.

It was Mamma who named me Eleanor; she told me once when I was little that it was because it means _light_ , and I brought light into her life. She called me her little sunbeam. Nobody's called me that since she died. I'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Kicking off the covers, I get out of bed, grabbing a smaller blanket from the foot of the bed to wrap around myself. There's no point in adjusting the temperature in here if you can just take a blanket, you know. The rain's finally stopping, so I go to sit beside the big window overlooking the city.

For some reason, my Mamma is coming back to me lots tonight, and especially the memories of her funeral. I was four when she died, of the summer fever. Lots of people die of it during the summer months, and that year it was my mamma's turn.

I was small, so I don't remember much, but I remember Auntie Ruth rocking me back and forth, and me crying, but not knowing exactly why. And I remember seeing Mamma in her coffin before they put her in the District 11 graveyard. She was peaceful looking, and beautiful too. Like she was just sleeping.

Is that how I'll look if I die tomorrow? Will I be sent back to my family in a plain pine coffin, destined for the graveyard where Mamma is buried?

What's going to happen tomorrow?

I thought I could win, I _think_ I can win, but seeing the beginning of the Games just lurking around the corner makes everything more real. Right now, I'd give almost anything to be home in the Roots, sharing a bed with Rosa.

Rosa. My cousin and I have never been the best of friends, but we're still close. She's irritating, and she thinks the same about me, I'm sure, but I miss her anyway. I miss all of them at home.

What is going to happen to me?

Even with the blanket wrapped around me, a chill runs up and down my spine. I don't want to die. And, I'll admit, I'm scared. I want to go home, and I'll bet everyone else in this building wants to go home too. Even the Career volunteers.

I don't want to kill the others. I've played tricks on them, and trained alongside them, and heard their interviews, heard them talk about their families and how much they want to win too. I don't want to kill them.

Most of all, I want my Mamma, and my Papa too, even though I never knew him. There's just enough light from the city below that I can vaguely see their pictures inside my locket when I open it. Mamma looks pretty and young in her picture, no more than seventeen or eighteen. Papa has a stern face and a mustache. I remember nothing of him, and I'm sorry for it.

Seeder's told me not to trust my only ally, but I don't really have a choice, do I? I'm so scared; I don't know what to do. The room seems colder, and I wrap the blanket tighter around myself. My stomach feels ill with anxiety. I'm so scared for what tomorrow is going to bring.

Then I do what I promised myself I wouldn't do, and what I never do at home; I put my head down on my knees, and cry; cry with the terror and the anxiety, and all the losses I've had.

I don't want to die.


	21. Prepare for Launch

** Astrid Clearwater **

It's still dark out when Sparkle knocks on my door. "It's time to go, Astrid!" she says, annoyingly cheerfully. I don't want to go; I want to just stay here in bed forever, where nobody can get to me. I actually slept a few hours, but it's not enough. I'm exhausted, which doesn't bode well for the arena.

Sparkle opens the door and drops something on the end of the bed. "Change into this; I'll be waiting for you outside the door," she says, then leaves, closing the door behind her.

I turn on the light to see what she dropped; my eyes half-shut because of the sudden brightness in the room. Once my eyes have adjusted enough, I see that Sparkle has left me a simple white shift to get into. Is that what I'm going to wear into the arena?

"Is that my uniform?" I ask, holding it up as I open the door. Sparkle laughs.

"No, silly, that's what you're going to wear to the Launch Room. You'll get your uniform there." I shut the door in her face and go into the bathroom to change. The shift is short, barely coming to my knees, and it makes me feel cold and uncomfortable.

I grab the edge of the counter, trying to get a grip on things. In just a few hours, I will be lifted into the arena, and then all hell will break loose. Did Mama sleep at all last night, or did she lie awake just like me? My reflection in the mirror shows me the dark circles under my eyes; I look very, very tired.

Sparkle knocks on the door again. "The hovercraft will be here soon! Hurry up!" I splash a little water on my face and march out the door, not bothering to turn out the light behind me. I can't wallow in self pity or fear anymore; neither of those will get me the crown. What's done is done, and now I have to make the best of it.

"I'm ready," I say, stepping out barefoot into the hallway where Sparkle's waiting impatiently. I look for Beetee or Delia, but none of them are around. I didn't expect them to be; the goodbyes were said last night, and now Beetee has to keep me and Circuit alive. Circuit's not around either.

"Where's Circuit?" I ask.

"Already gone," Sparkle says, leading the way through the living room to the elevators. It's dark still, but the sun is rising over the Capitol skyline. Soon it will be bright here, but I won't be here to see it.

I follow Sparkle into the elevator; she presses the button for the roof and we shoot upwards. My knees are shaking from cold and terror, even though I told myself I wouldn't be scared anymore. It's hard not to be.

"You'll go up first, then they'll collect me after," Sparkle says, pointing to a ladder dangling down from hovercraft that's suspended in midair. "Go on."

As soon as I touch the ladder, a current freezes me in place; the ladder retracts, bringing me upwards with it. When I'm finally in the hovercraft, a woman dressed in white approaches with a needle in hand. I can't even protest when she stabs me with it in the arm; once she's done that, the current releases me and I stagger backwards.

"What was that?" I ask, grabbing my arm and wincing. "That hurt!"

"Your tracker," she says before walking away. Leaving me to stand here, waiting for Sparkle to be brought up from below.

** Shore Seawind **

"Eat; the breakfast they have here is wonderful!" Augustus says, gesturing to the full buffet before me. We only just got up here in the hovercraft, at the crack of dawn, and he's already awake and bubbly. I'm not quite sure how he does it, since I'm still yawning from my poor sleep last night.

"What do you recommend?" I ask, picking up a plate. The inside of the hovercraft is warm, which I'm glad for since the white shirt and pants Augustus gave me are really thin, and not warm at all. As I understand it, I'll get my actual uniform later.

"I enjoy the crepes," he says, taking a bite of pastry himself. Even though it's early, he's already wearing his trademark curly green wig and purple eyeliner. Again, I'm no expert on fashion, but it's hideous even to me.

"So, what's going to happen next?" I ask, picking up random pastries and fruit and putting them on my plate. An Avox comes and pours a cup of coffee for me, which I'm extremely grateful for. Anything to help me wake up.

"We're en route to the arena as we speak," Augustus says, swallowing. "Then we'll go down into the Launch Room to prepare you for entering the arena itself."

"How long will that take? Until we get there, I mean," I ask, mindlessly eating. I'm going to need it for today.

"An hour, an hour and a half maybe?"

"We have time for a good breakfast then," I say, raising my cup of coffee to my stylist. "To the Hunger Games!"

"To the Hunger Games," Augustus says, toasting me back. I think back to Mags's warning about facing my mortality. I feel none of that; I feel powerful and confident that I can win.

I won't be facing my mortality at all.

** Iry Coppersmith **

Damius came and got me early this morning, from Terra's room. "I'm not ready!" I said, holding on tight to Terra.

"I'm sorry; you have to go," Terra said, holding me close and starting to cry a little. "I've got to go too, with the other mentors. You'll be okay, I promise."

"Will you come with me to the roof?" I whispered.

"Can I?" Terra pleaded with Damius. He nodded.

"Here's your slip that you'll wear in the meantime," he said kindly, handing the white dress to Terra and then leaving the room. Terra helped me get dressed, then walked out with me into the hallway, so we could join Damius. I was cold, and scared. I'm still both of those things. Nobody said anything while we went up the elevator to the roof, where a hovercraft was waiting.

"I don't want to go!" I said, backing away, trying to get to the elevators again. Terra caught me by the arm.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" she said, crying. "Damius is going to be with you the whole time; you won't be alone. I love you so much, Iry." I could tell it was killing her inside to make me go to the hovercraft.

"I love you too!" I said, throwing myself into my sister's arms. She hugged me tight, then let me go.

"You can do this," she said. Damius took me by the hand and led me to the hovercraft. As the ladder took me up, I could see Terra, standing there alone and watching me. Then I couldn't see her anymore.

"How are you feeling, Iry?" Damius asks gently. I haven't been able to eat much of my breakfast. Even the waffles don't make me want to eat. My arm still hurts from where the woman put my tracker in, and I'm cold and terrified.

"I'm scared," I whisper.

"You'll be alright. You're made of the same stuff as your sister, so you'll come out wearing that crown." He smiles at me.

"Do you really think so?" I ask.

"I really do. Eat as much as you can; you'll need it for today."

So I choke down a bit more food, until my stomach doesn't want anymore. Damius doesn't eat much either, choosing to sip on a cup of coffee instead.

I think about Ribbons, and Terra, and everyone at home while I look out the windows as I eat. Just as I finish and push my plate away, the lights outside the hovercraft windows go out, like we're in a cave or something. I don't like the dark at all.

"What's going on?" I ask, looking back and forth between windows.

"We've arrived," Damius says, and my stomach fills with butterflies.

We're at the arena.

** Nell Slatefield **

One foot in front of the other; that's how I'm keeping it together as we walk down the dark and shadowy halls of the Catacombs under the arena. Focusing on each footstep as we pass by Avoxes and guards and blinking lights. Of course, Opal chatters the whole way.

"Here we are!" she says brightly, pushing open the door at the very end of the hallway. I clench my hands into fists and force myself to walk through the door and follow her. I want to run and find a tree to perch in somewhere, somewhere far away from here.

"So, what are we doing here?" I ask, trying to keep my spirits up. Nell Slatefield isn't so easily defeated, is she? I've faced worse from the Peacekeepers at home. Like once I took an apple when I wasn't supposed to, and they chased me through the orchards until I climbed too high for them to see me. I think that apple was the best I've ever tasted- that and the one I stole right after at the top of the tree.

"First you go and shower and brush your teeth in there," Opal says, pointing to another door off to the side. "Then we'll get you dressed and maybe you'll want some more food!"

"Maybe," I say, going into the small bathroom and slamming the door behind me. I get in the shower, but have to sit down after a few minutes because my legs are shaking too hard to keep me standing. I could be dead in a few hours, and it wouldn't matter to anyone but my family.

The nerves go straight to my stomach, and I pitch forward, retching into the drain. I turn my face up toward the spray of water, warm like a summer rain. Find Trestle, that's what I'm going to have to do; find him and go. Then figure it out from there.

When I get out, I dry myself off with the current button that untangles my hair instantly, then wrap a thick, white robe around myself. While I brush my teeth with the toothbrush provided, I look at myself in the mirror. It might be the last time I ever do it, after all. I see me, Nell. I grin at my reflection, pulling faces like I do to annoy Rosa.

I'm going to be fine. How can I not do fine? I've never gone down without a fight before, and I'm not going to start now.

"Right, what's my uniform?" I ask, throwing open the door. Opal's sitting on a couch holding a large package. "Let's have a look, I'm curious."

"They just brought it in," Opal says. I'm glad she didn't design this outfit, even though her last dress was gorgeous. I'm not forgetting me being naked on the chariots.

Slowly, she opens the package and unwraps the paper inside. Plain white undergarments come out first, which she hands to me. Then a tight fitting black short-sleeved shirt, dark green pants with a cuff at the bottom; a brown jacket that zips up the front; white socks, and black boots that look uncomfortable.

"Do I have to wear the boots?" I ask, picking up the heavy things. "I'd rather go barefoot." I've never worn shoes like these, and I'd rather not. I don't understand why everyone chooses to wear shoes here, when feet are meant to be free.

"Everything given must be worn," Opal says. "Let's get you dressed!"

Nothing of the outfit is what I'd wear in real life, back home. It's too Capitol. Maybe it'll keep me alive in the arena, but Opal says nothing about what the uniform might suggest will be in the arena.

Once I'm dressed, Opal has me walk around to make sure everything fits. "It's fine, but the boots are heavy!" I complain, picking up one foot then the other.

"You're just not used to wearing shoes," Opal says cheerfully. "Deal with it!" I glare at her before collapsing onto the couch.

"Can I have some water?" I ask. Opal gets a glass from somewhere and hands it to me; I drink it slowly, savoring every drop. I'll need to get water in the arena, so it's better if I stock up now. In the corner of the room there's a glass tube with a metal plate in it. Just the sight of it makes me want to throw up again, but I won't let myself do it.

"This is going to be the best year ever!" Opal says, chatting away about things I don't care about. My family will be in the town square by now, being comforted by the other Roots people. Waiting for the Games to start. I can picture the scene clearly, since I've been in that crowd every year that I can remember, except for this year. This year I'm part of the show.

"Prepare for launch," a robotic woman says, maybe the same one that announced each of us for our private sessions.

"Now?" I ask, and Opal nods. "Can I have a hair tie?"

Opal hands me one from her kit on the couch, and I pull my hair back into a ponytail. "You look good," she says, almost kindly.

"Thanks." My hands are shaking again; I'm not ready to go in. Not yet. "The dress was really pretty last night," I say.

"I'll have an even prettier one for you when you return," Opal says, and for the first time she sounds like she actually cares about me.

"See you soon, then," I say. This is it. Time to give the Capitol their show.

"Launch in ten seconds." I step onto the metal plate; the walls around it have conveniently disappeared for now.

"Good luck, Nell!" Opal says, beaming at me. Then the walls come up around me; I put my hands on the glass, looking at my stylist, who's watching me too.

The metal plate begins to rise, and then I can't see Opal anymore. I can't see anything.

All there is is darkness.


	22. The Viewing Hall

** Terra Coppersmith **

The hovercraft disappears with my sister inside it; I sink to the ground, trying to find my bearings. She's gone. I can't do anything now but go to help her as a mentor. I can't move, though; the pain of losing Iry is too much.

What if she dies? What then? What life will be left for me then?

I don't know how long I sit there, watching the sky where the hovercraft had floated, where my sister was taken up into the sky and abducted. She's gone.

"Terra, we need to go. We need to get to the Viewing Hall before the Games start." Shuttle's come up behind me, holding my shoulders. "Terra?"

"She's gone," I whisper.

"I know. We need to get to the Viewing Hall so we can keep her alive. Come on." I let Shuttle help me up, and lead me back to the elevators. My legs are wobbly, and I have to hold onto Shuttle to stay upright. I lean on my mentor as she summons the elevator, and then she helps me into the lift.

"Where is the Viewing Hall anyway?" I ask as the doors close behind us.

"Still in the Training Center, but low down. Below the gymnasium I believe," Shuttle says, staring straight ahead at the doors. The elevator plunges down so quickly I lose my breath.

"Is it below the hospital?" I ask. I'm running my fingers over the places where my missing two fingers used to be. Please don't let Iry lose her fingers; she has such pretty hands.

"No, the hospital is below the Viewing Hall." The elevator slows to a stop, then the doors open into a massive room lit with thousands of florescent lights, similar to the ones they have in the gymnasium. The ceiling's lower than the apartment's, making the room feel slightly claustrophobic. And despite the lights, it's dark and gloomy.

There are clear stations with numbers above them on the wall, each having a giant television screen and a group of victors surrounding it. It looks like every victor, or almost every victor, is here, waiting for the Games to begin.

"We're at 8," Shuttle murmurs in my ear. Together we push through towards where Woven and Woof are already sitting, staring at the screen.

"You got her then," Woven says without taking her eyes off the television before her. Now that I'm closer, I can see that it's not one single screen but split up into four; one large screen and three smaller screens beside it. Underneath there's a long blank screen above a desk. Two of the smaller screens are black, but the others are showing footage.

"What are these all for?" I ask.

"The big one's the live feed, so we see everything that the audience sees," Woven says. "The top two of the others are for each of our tributes so we can track them, and the bottom one displays all the alive tributes' names and headshots."

I lean in close and see Iry's headshot directly above Azlon's. All twenty-four tributes are pictured, because the Games haven't started and everyone is still alive. "What about the long screen here?" I ask, pointing.

"One the Games start, that's where we choose our gifts, based on how much sponsor money we have."

"How long before the Games start, then?" I ask. "I don't even know the time."

"About an hour or so to go," Shuttle says, sounding tense. This is what she does every year; every year she tries to keep her tribute alive and she usually fails. Except for me. And this year, Iry. I hope.

"Good to see you!" Corinna says, coming over and giving Shuttle a hug. "Can't believe it's this time already. The last week just flew by, don't you think so?"

"Faster this year than normal," Shuttle agrees.

"Corinna! Quit chatting and come over here!" Elm shouts from the station right next to ours, with the 7 over top of the screens. Corinna rolls her eyes.

"He's so bossy. I'll catch up with you later. Good luck!"

"You too," Shuttle says. _Not too much luck, mind you_ , I think.

"Fifty minutes to launch," a woman says over the intercom. I look at Shuttle, and she looks back at me.

"They'll have arrived at the arena by now," she says.

"She has to live," I whisper, shakily running my finger through my hair, combing out the knots I didn't get a chance to remove this morning. In my mind, I see Iry down below the arena, scared but determined. At least Damius is with her; he's the best stylist and friend she can have. He'll make sure she's alright.

"How are you faring?" someone says behind me. It's Mags, the victor from District 4. During my Victory Tour she was kind to me, and I've never forgotten that.

"I'm okay," I tell her. Can she see my hands shaking?

"I'm sorry about your sister. I really am," Mags says, coming closer. "I wish you all the luck in the world, Terra." She gives me a gentle one-armed hug, then walks back to her own tribute station.

"Mags is one of the best victors in my opinion," Woof says, watching her go. "You'll never hear an unkind word out of that woman." I'll agree with him on that one. Mags took me around District 4 during my Tour, and it's one of my favorite memories of all time, even though I had a flashback at the end. I've never forgotten the ocean and how beautiful it was, or how kind Mags was to me. Even though I killed her tribute.

Shuttle makes me sit down, but I don't look at the screens. Instead, I look around at the other victors; most of them are now at their own screens, but some are still going from station to station visiting with the friends they've made over the years. These are the only friendships that extend past district borders, I realize.

There're several victors I recognize from either watching them on television, from my Victory Tour, or from seeing them earlier this week; there's Arla, the drunk from District 9, Beetee the technical genius from District 3, and the girl from 1 who was the victor two years ago, Silk.

"Who's that over there?" I murmur to Shuttle.

She looks where I'm pointing and says, "Isaac from 10. Quiet man; never has been one for words." He's thin and tall, with grey streaked brown hair. About the same age as Woven I'd say. Talking to him is the tall and broad victor from 9, Ripple. I remember that he was kind, but didn't say a lot either.

"Forty minutes to launch." Every time that woman talks over the intercom, my heart jumps.

"Have you eaten yet today, Terra?" Woven asks, looking over at me.

"Not yet." There was no time to eat before I had to take Iry up to the roof, and I didn't want to eat anyway. _Iry's going into the Hunger Games, and I can't stop her._ I swore I would keep her safe and I failed. _I failed._

"I'll go get us some breakfast then," she says, getting up.

"I'm not hungry," I tell her, but Woven doesn't listen.

"You will be later, and you'll want staying power today too. We'll be here a long time," Shuttle says, taking Woven's seat beside me. "On the first day all the mentors are here to see the arena and the beginning of the Games, but tonight we'll switch off into shifts."

"I'm not leaving Iry," I say immediately.

"You'll need sleep later."

"Don't debate it with her," Woof says. "I doubt you'll be able to change her mind anyway."

The big screen is showing Caius Glorystream and Marcus Fireglen, sitting in front of a camera and looking very cheerful. "The countdown is on, Marcus," Caius says.

"I think we're looking at a very exciting year! I'll be all of you watching are as eager as I am to get the Hunger Games started!" Marcus says, beaming at the camera.

"Want to bet?" I mutter. I don't understand why the Capitol people like watching us die. What's wrong with them? I don't think they even see the tributes as human until they win. And even then that's debatable.

"I got us all coffee," Woven says, putting a tray of cups down on the desk in front of me. I didn't notice it before, but she's got dark circles under her eyes as well. Looking around, most of the victors near me look tired and emotional; I doubt anyone slept well last night.

"Thanks," I say, choosing a mug and taking a sip from it.

"Did you get food?" Woof asks, picking up his own cup. "They've just put up the tribute cameras, but there's nothing going on yet." Instead of live footage, there's just a headshot of Iry on the bottom and Azlon on the top screen.

"I got muffins for each of us," Woven says as she hands each of us a muffin in a paper wrapper.

Woof grunts. "It'll do for now, I suppose," he says, taking his.

"Well you can get the food next time if you're going to be picky," Woven says, pulling up another chair and sitting down with her own cup of coffee.

"Thirty minutes to launch." My heart leaps again.

Where is Iry now? What is she doing? Is she in her uniform yet, and if she is, what is it? Where is she going when the metal plate rises? I have thousands of questions that can only be answered by waiting, and it's killing me.

"She's fine," Shuttle says, putting her arm around me. "Focus on something else until the plates rise, okay?"

"Okay." I eat my muffin, but it tastes like sand in my mouth. Down here in the Viewing Hall, there's low conversation going on in every corner of the room, but none of it is discernable. The Career mentors are all gathered together at their various screens; their tributes are all allies so they have to work together. Iry and Azlon didn't make allies, so we're on our own here at station 8.

Shuttle quietly laughs next to me. "What?" I ask.

"Seeder and Fabian have to work together this year, because their tributes allied, and the two of them absolutely _hate_ each other." She's not wrong about that; I can see Seeder sitting down at station 11, and ignoring the man next to her completely, while he glares down at her.

"District 6?" I ask.

"That's the one. They've got four victors from 6, but only one of them is fully functional," Shuttle says, crossing her legs. "Lexa's always done alright, but Fabian's liked his alcohol a bit too much since he won, and Orna and Jass are hopeless."

"District 6, the morphling district," Woof says, still focused on the screen. I'm not sure what he's looking at; nothing's going on.

"She'll be getting her uniform on now, won't she?" I ask, looking at Shuttle.

"Iry's probably all ready by now and just eating something with Damius. You know he's going to take care of her."

"I know, but…" I trail off, unwilling to finish my train of thought. Iry's only thirteen and going into the Games. I'm scared for her; I'm scared of losing her. But they've heard me say those things before.

"Just focus on the coffee," Woof says. "We're all worried about them; you don't need to make it worse."

"Woof!" Woven scolds.

"It's true. We're already in worst case scenario, so let's lighten it up a little. Drink the coffee, watch the useless banter on the large screen, and let me figure out how to get rid of that idiotic escort while making it look like an accident."

So I do. I drink the coffee and block out everything else. Don't think, just wait. Shuttle and Woven talk together, but I can't hear what they're saying. Woof studies the chart where it shows how much money we have to spend for gifts.

And I just sit and wait, until the robotic woman finally says, "Preparing for launch; twenty seconds out."

This is it.

_Please let my sister live._


	23. Decisions

** Astrid Clearwater **

The plate rises up through the dark tunnel, and just when I think the arena is going to be in the dark, I come out into the light. Blinding light. Where am I? The sun beats down with white heat onto my head, so I know it's not a tundra.

"Welcome to the 41st Annual Hunger Games!" Caius Glorystream announces, his voice reverberating throughout the arena, wherever we are. I'm still trying to figure it out; my eyes are half closed because of the sun that's shining down on us. Everyone's quiet; I don't hear anything but bird calls and wild howling coming from behind me.

When I can open my eyes properly, the first thing I see is water; it's surrounding my metal plate. Alright, so it's a water arena. Wonderful. I can't swim, and probably neither can most of the other tributes. This does not bode well for anyone but the District 4s.

All twenty-four of us are ringed in a semicircle around a bare and sandy island, where the Cornucopia is located, piled high with weapons and supplies. I turn in a circle; behind me is a larger island covered in trees and hills. I understand what the Gamemakers are trying to make us do; we have to choose whether to go to the Cornucopia for supplies, or run away to the larger island. It's clever, I'll give them that. I wonder who is going to run away and who is going to fight.

Thirty seconds left, and I've already made my decision. There's no way I'm going to the Cornucopia; once you get onto that island, you're going to have a hard time getting off of it alive. Meanwhile, I'm standing between Celosia from 12 and Hazel from 5; both of them seem to be getting ready to run to the smaller island. Hazel's an idiot; the Careers will kill her in a second.

The last ten seconds tick by on the timer above the Cornucopia. Where is Elowyn? Looking back and forth I finally see her; she's on the very end of the semicircle to the left of me, directly beside Agrippina. Luckily, she's getting ready to run away, too. How deep is this water? It's deep blue and murky where I am, but it gets clearer and lighter blue closer to land.

I look for Circuit next, and see him on the other side of the semicircle next to the blonde girl from 1. And a few tributes over from me on the right is the small girl from 8, next to Dominicus. _Good luck with that._

The gong sounds and I leap off of my plate into the dark blue ocean. Fortunately, the water only comes up to my neck, but now I'm worried about what things might be lurking in the water. Too late to worry about that; I have to go, have to go _now._

I manage to thrash my way through the water, which is warmer than I thought it would be, stepping on rocks and who knows what else. I send a silent thank you to whoever designed the uniform and gave me boots. They showed excellent sense.

Already there's screaming behind me; I don't look back, I just run through the shallowing water, until it comes up to my knees. Then I pause to look behind me and survey the situation.

There's one body in the water, but I can't tell who they are from a distance. More than a few tributes are hacking at each other on the Cornucopia island, several are fighting their way through the water towards this island, and three are still standing on their plates. One of them is Tilling. The little 8 girl surprises me by fighting her way towards this island. Time to go; if she's coming, others will be too. Where's Elowyn?

I'm pretty safe so far, though; we're the prey, and prey don't attack each other; not yet anyway. Besides, none of us are armed. It's when the Cornucopia group comes over that the Game gets more dangerous. No cannons yet; the Gamemakers will fire them when the fighting's over. Too hard to keep track of the deaths during the initial bloodbath.

I start to run into the trees and almost smack straight into Kiril from District 7. He's smarter than most of the others; he's getting away. Kiril looks at me, terrified, but when I make no move to kill him, he runs, tripping over tree roots as he goes.

"Astrid!" Elowyn's voice carries over the sounds of birds and insects and I don't know what else is in this strange forest. "Astrid!"

I'm not dumb enough to give away my location to anyone nearby who might have a knife, so I follow the sound of her voice through the rainforest. That's what this is, a rainforest, a jungle; vines hanging down from above drip water onto my head; birds fly through the trees, and everywhere I look there's an exotically colored flower. Precisely nothing like District 3.

"Elowyn?" I say when I think I'm close enough to where her voice was coming from.

"Astrid! Over here!" she calls back. I find her hidden behind a tree on the edge of the forest, wringing the water out of her jacket. Our shoes are waterproof, but the rest of the outfit is definitely not. Through the trees I can see the Cornucopia island; the fighting's still going on which bodes well for us.

"You should be happy; you've got trees," I say.

"There's nothing like this at home," Elowyn says. "Did you get any supplies?"

"The Cornucopia's a death trap; I got out of there as fast as I could."

"Let's figure supplies out later. We've got to go," she says, giving up on getting the water out. The air is hot and muggy in here, so I doubt we'll dry out completely anyway. "Almost everyone is at the Cornucopia, but that's not going to last."

"Let's go," I say. I'm glad I've taken Elowyn on as an ally; I don't fancy being alone in this rainforest. And even if she's never seen these kinds of trees before, being from District 7 is going to give her an edge.

The terrain is flat for about twenty feet, and then it starts going uphill. The ground is damp and spongey; difficult to get a foothold on. Elowyn pulls herself up using vines, then grabs me by the hand and hauls me up. Something shouts right above us and I nearly scream.

"Monkey!" Elowyn says, pointing up.

"How do you know?"

"There was one in a Games a few years ago. We can chat later; run!" Elowyn charges off, and I follow, trying to keep myself upright as we crash through bushes and flowers and over roots that try to trip me.

A few minutes later, I stop Elowyn. "What's that?" I whisper, pointing to a greyish animal hanging from a branch several feet ahead of us.

"Mutt?" she whispers back. It could be; it looks bizarre enough. It moves slowly, however, hanging by its branch by long claws. We hesitate, watching the creature for a few minutes, but it does nothing out of the ordinary, even after seeing us.

"Don't think so. Just a weird animal," I say.

"If it's not going to kill us, we ignore it," Elowyn says. She looks calm, but I know she's as scared as I am. I also notice we both went the sensible route with our hair and braided it before we got here; mine is in one fat red braid, hers in two long blonde ones.

"How far do you think we've come?" I ask.

Elowyn shakes her head. "Not far enough. Let's keep going."

So we do, moving uphill most of the way. Every once in a while, Elowyn points out a tree she recognizes from home. "That's a cedar tree there," she says, panting. Our hands and pants are covered in dirt and leaf debris from climbing the hills.

"We can rest," I say. "I doubt the Careers will be hunting us while they have supplies to go through."

"True enough," Elowyn says, sitting down on a moss-covered log and brushing the dirt off of her palms.

I open my mouth to say something, but I'm interrupted by the cannons, which echo around the arena. I count each one as it fires, each cannon representing a dead tribute.

"Five, six, seven," I count, then the rainforest falls silent again. "Seven dead. That's not many," I say.

"For the amount of tributes who went into the bloodbath, no," Elowyn says. "We should keep moving."

"Yeah."

The bloodbath is over, and now we're the next targets.


	24. Leader

** Shore Seawind **

"Is that one really dead?" Tiara asks, pointing to the motionless body of the girl from 5.

"Guess we'll find out when the cannons go," Dominicus says, rifling through the supplies in the Cornucopia.

"Got anything good in there?" Aggie asks, slinging her knife down into the sand and sitting down beside it on the beach.

"Plenty." Dominicus throws a flashlight over his shoulder; it hits the beach and sticks, light side up.

"Don't break all the supplies," Cloak says, pacing in front of the Cornucopia.

"Seven down?" I ask, counting the bodies that are strewn over the beach and floating in the water. I see the boy from 5 who I killed myself, lying in a patch of red sand. Behind me, Aggie laughs her crow laugh.

"Everyone showed up, didn't they?" she says. "Even the twelve-year-old. You'd think they'd run, but no."

"Worked well for us, didn't it?" Cloak says.

"Yeah, but I wasn't expecting the idiots to come over and join us," Tiara says. "District 6's got more guts than I thought."

"We'll see his guts before long," Aggie says, kicking at the District 6 girl who Cloak killed with a sword. Her eyes stare upwards into the relentless white sun.

"What's the plan then?" Tiara asks, sitting down in the mouth of the Cornucopia.

"We stay here, obviously. We've got the supplies and we have to defend it," Dominicus says, coming out of the Cornucopia juggling bottles of something.

"Look at you; I didn't know you had a secret talent," Tiara says, catching one of the bottles as Dominicus throws it to her. "What's this?"

"I've got lots of secrets," Dominicus says, "And it's sunblock. With the sun like this, we'll burn in no time."

"The boy's got sense," Aggie says, grabbing the bottle from Tiara and pouring a generous amount into her hand.

"The boy? We've known each other our whole lives, and I'm older than you, _Agrippina_ ," Dominicus says, poking Aggie in the back of the head. She crow laughs again.

"We're going to need water," I say, surveying the arena. We're currently on a small island, but I have a feeling all the action is going to be across the way. That's where all the other tributes disappeared to, after all.

"Of course you're going to say that, Ocean Boy," Aggie says, smearing sunblock over her face. Before I can explain myself, the cannons go off; seven in total.

"Guess they're all dead then," Cloak says.

"They're dead, and we need water so that we don't end up like them," I say.

"We're surrounded by water," Tiara says.

"It's salt water; we can't drink salt water." I go over and test the water for myself. "See? Salt."

"It most certainly is sea salt," Dominicus says, making Aggie laugh again.

"Cloak, what do we do?" Tiara asks, looking to her district partner. Everyone goes quiet, waiting to hear his answer. This is the moment where either Cloak or I become the leader, and I don't know what will happen when the choice is made. I tense, ready to strike if necessary.

Cloak looks between me, Tiara, and the island. "We go and find water on the island," he says. That's settled it; he's not ready to take me yet. One of us is going to be leader at some point, but right now it's not important. The important thing is finding water; that was Mags's last instruction to me, and I'm going to follow through.

"So we're just going to leave all this great gear here?" Dominicus asks.

"Take as much as we can carry with us. Think about it," Aggie says, picking her knife up, "Who are we going to kill over here?"

"Her," Cloak says, pointing with his spear point to Kelpie, who's sitting as far away from us as possible, dipping her feet in the water. I'd almost forgotten she was there.

"Not yet," I say. "Let's get through the first day with all of us together. Then we figure out what to do with her later."

"You like her, don't you?" Aggie says in a mocking tone. "She your girlfriend?"

"I'm engaged, Aggie. I've got a girl waiting for me at home; I definitely do not like Kelpie," I tell her. Aggie smirks and looks away from me, back to Kelpie who's closed her eyes. She didn't kill anyone in the bloodbath; just hid until it was over. I don't blame the others for wanting to eliminate her quickly, but I want to keep my promise to Mags and make sure Kelpie goes out quietly. Aggie won't do it quietly, that's for sure.

"Let's get packing then," Cloak says. "Pull out some bags and we'll put as much stuff as we can in them."

Dominicus slings bags out at us; I catch mine easily but Tiara's hits her in the face. "Will you watch where you're throwing things?"

"Whatever," Dominicus says. Tiara glares at his back, but doesn't say anything else. As Dominicus throws supplies out into the sand, we pick them up and sort through what we want and don't want. In my pack I put a flashlight, matches, a first aid kit, two water bottles, sunscreen, a rope, a pair of gloves, a light green raincoat, and a pair of sunglasses. When Dominicus starts handing out the food, I take a pack of beef jerky, a bag of nuts, and a bag of dried fruit.

"Kelpie, are you coming?" I call; she jumps like I woke her up.

"Where are we going?" she asks, pulling her socks and boots back on.

"Mainland," I say, pointing to the larger island covered in trees, surrounded by a beach similar to ours. Obviously, it's not a true mainland, but it's close enough for what we have here.

"Why can't we stay here?" Kelpie looks down at the bodies on the beach and immediately closes her eyes again. "We can be safe in the Cornucopia."

"We need water. And the other tributes are over on the island."

"I want to stay here." Kelpie sounds close to tears again, and if she does that, she's gone.

"They'll kill you if you stay here. Come on, let's go." I wonder what my family is thinking about all this so far. I've killed two tributes; the boy from 5 and the boy from 12; how do they feel about that? I'll do anything to get me home, and none of us have gotten injured so far. I've got a good chance. Besides, the arena is half water; it was made for me.

"You two done chatting?" Aggie says, strapping her pack on her back.

"Yes," I say, then to Kelpie, "Grab a bag and throw some supplies in it. Just do it." Kelpie looks at me, finally opening her eyes, then slowly takes a pack from the beach and half-heartedly throws some random supplies into it.

"Got a weapon, Shore?" Cloak asks. He's holding a gold colored sword that's as long as his arm.

"Yes," I say, grabbing a trident from the Cornucopia in one hand, and a knife I stick into my pack with the other. Aggie's holding a knife and an axe; Tiara has a sword as well; Dominicus has a selection of knives, and Kelpie's reluctantly grabbing a knife from the beach.

"Across the ocean then," Cloak says, like he's conquering a distant land, and walks into the shallow water. I move to follow him, but Kelpie grabs my arm and shakes her head, pointing at a shadow that seems to move quickly through the water.

"Hold it," I say. "Stop, come back here, Cloak."

"You're not the leader here, Shore," Cloak says, turning to face me. The rest of the alliance is still standing on the beach, and I don't think Kelpie's the only one to have noticed the shadow.

"Get out of the water, you idiot!" Aggie says. "Listen to us."

"Don't you tell me what to do either!" Cloak stands his ground, holding his sword aloft. Kelpie's closed her eyes and sunk down to the beach, covering her ears.

"Get out!" I shout, backing further up the beach; the others follow my suit; Tiara's mouth is hanging open as she tracks the shadow.

Cloak opens his mouth to argue again, but what comes out is a scream as the large grey shark attacks him.


	25. Jungle Walk

** Iry Coppersmith **

The cannon scares me, making me trip and fall over a trailing vine. My hands sting; something sharp on the ground cut them and now my right hand is bleeding. I have to be strong, for Terra, so I don't let myself cry. It hurts, though.

Who's dead? That makes eight for today, after the bloodbath cannons went off earlier. Maybe the Careers are out hunting tributes, and so they're hunting me.

I scramble to my feet and keep running; I haven't gone very far into the jungle; instead I've been keeping to the edge between beach and forest. I don't trust anything in this arena. At least on the beach I'm able to see people coming.

Like Terra told me to do, I ran the opposite way of the Cornucopia, but I was terrified of the water and the things that might be in it. The water was deep, too, but I made it to shore okay. My clothes are soaked, but they'll dry eventually. My biggest problem now is that almost everyone else went for the supplies, and now I have none. I'm sure Terra will send me some things later, but I'm worried anyway.

I wish Terra was here. I know she's watching me right now, so I'm trying to look brave, but I'm so scared. I miss her, and Shuttle, and everyone else. Where did Azlon go? I don't even know if he went to the Cornucopia or not.

Birds twitter and talk all around my head, each of them in bright colors and beautiful. The flowers are large and colorful, but I don't touch them. Some of them will be poison, I'm sure, and I'm not taking any chances. I have to get out, as much for Terra as for me.

The island juts out toward the Cornucopia, then dips back into a little cove, before going back out again and curving to the right. Everything is quiet, except for the bird calls and a constant buzzing of insects. I walk as quietly as I can, just in case somebody is around.

Something rustles the bushes ahead of me; automatically I duck down behind a fern and peer through its leaves. Nothing appears. Did I just imagine it? No, there it is again. I'm biting my nails, I'm so scared. Maybe it's a tribute watching me back, and they want to kill me.

A scaly green lizard pops out of the bushes and runs up a nearby tree. It's okay; it's just a lizard. It's huge, though! As big as my arm! I don't think it's a mutt, but I don't know. Sometimes the mutts look normal and then they blow fire at you; I've seen Games where that happens. This lizard just ignores me, though, and keeps running up the tree. I'm safe for now.

My mouth starts to dry out after I've been walking for a while. Terra will send me water later, I'm sure, but I'm so thirsty right now. I need to find a hiding place where the other tributes won't find me. Maybe I can just sit down for a little while and rest; I've been going for at least an hour now.

Sitting at the edge of the beach lets me hear the waves; it's such a beautiful sound. I think I'd like to live by the ocean one day, when I get out of this arena.

"We're all in one piece, are you happy?" a girl's voice carries over to where I'm sitting. It's one of the Careers. I duck underneath the log I'm sitting on and hope beyond hope that the ferns in front of it hide me enough so that they won't see me. If they see me, they'll kill me.

"Not all of us are in one piece, Aggie." That's a boy's voice, maybe the boy from 2?

"Cloak was a moron for not listening to us," Aggie says, stopping right in front of my log. I don't even breathe.

"And now he's dead, so let's keep looking for water," another boy says, the boy from 4. I can see him through the leaves of the ferns in front of my log. If he looks over here, he might see me too.

"You and your water; if you weren't so insistent on getting water right away, then Cloak would still be here," Aggie says.

"Listen to me. We can live three days without water, that's it. Water is our top priority."

"I'd say that my top priority is finding the girl from 3," Aggie says.

"After water."

"Fine. Let's go find your stupid water." The Careers walk on past me, not bothering to even be quiet. I don't move, just stay right where I am. A large bug crawls by my head, and I shudder. I don't like bugs very much, and especially not by my head. I found a spider in my bed at home once, and I had to sleep in a guest room for two days.

If I go onto the beach, then everyone will be able to find me. If I stay in the jungle, then the others might still find me, but I'll be better hidden. But I don't know what's in here either. I guess there's no safe place in the arena. I want Terra to help show me the way, but she can't. I have to be Iry all by myself. I'll be brave. I can do this. Just hide until I win.

Easier said than done. I'm scared and worried.

Once the Careers' voices fade out and are replaced by the usual bird song, I climb out from under the log, brushing creepy crawlies off of my jacket. By the sounds of it, one of the Careers is already dead, and it's the boy from 1. They usually make it through the first day, so I wonder what happened to him. I probably don't want to know.

I'm not sure which way the Careers would have taken after passing by me, so I keep walking along the edge of the forest and beach the way I was, but really quietly. I hate being alone like this; I wish I had an ally. I don't like to think Terra was wrong, but maybe she was for not letting me have an ally.

The Careers were looking for water too; if I catch up to them and follow them at a distance, then I'll get water too! I'll have to be really careful, though.

It takes hours to walk through the jungle; a couple times I see more of those lizards, and once a big red bird with a curved beak came and sat in a tree fork near me. He wasn't a mutt either; just a curious bird. I wonder what kind he is. I don't see the Careers again, though, or hear them either. I'm sure I'd hear them before I see them; they weren't being very quiet when they walked past me.

I still haven't found any water; Terra will probably send me some later, so I don't have to worry too much. But I don't want to waste the sponsor money on water, when I'll need other things later on in the Games.

At the very edge of the trees, the dirt and plants make a sort of ledge, before the terrain turns into a shallow ditch and then sandy beaches. From here I can see the ocean and the sun sparkling off the water. It seems to go on forever; is that real or is it just a pretend horizon? I don't know how much of anything is real in here.

It's so, so beautiful here, though.

I'm tired after last night with almost no sleep, the start of the Games, and now walking for miles in the hot sun. Time to camp, I think. After a bit of looking around, I find two trees that are close enough together that I can lean broken sticks up against them and make a rough shelter. I doubt the instructor in Training would be proud of it, but it'll do. The trees are far enough out of the way, and hidden by ferns and flowers, that I don't think anyone will find me here.

It'll do for now. Tomorrow I'll find water and a more permanent place to set up camp. Now to wait for the sun to set and for Terra to send me some supplies.

I'm scared for the sun to set.


	26. Treetop

** Nell Slatefield **

"Right here; we'll camp right here," Trestle says, spreading his arms wide.

"Why here?"

"It's on a hill; we'll be able to see anyone who comes along, and then we get them," he says, grinning.

"They'll be able to see us too," I say, taking off the backpack and setting it down on the ground.

"Not when we rig up our shelter."

"Aren't you glad I went to shelter making during Training?" I ask. Trestle rolls his eyes.

"That was one of the few things you weren't shit at." I feign hurt, clapping my hand over my heart.

"You've wounded me, Trestle!" I say, but I can't help laughing.

"I did more than wound that girl earlier," Trestle says, and now I don't want to laugh anymore.

When the gong sounded at the beginning of the day, Trestle went straight for the Cornucopia. I, being his ally, went after him. So did everyone else, it seemed.

Trestle dodged the others and ran straight into the horn, grabbing a set of knives. The girl from 5 came after him, and he slashed her throat open. I didn't stop running towards him, even when Hazel collapsed at my feet and the other tributes started fighting and yelling.

I had been between Kiril and Mariana, Trestle's district partner, while we were on the plates; Kiril ran off the other way, but Mariana followed us onto the Cornucopia island.

"Get a pack and let's get out of here!" Trestle shouted at me. I was temporarily distracted by seeing Lotem get cut down with a sword, wielded by Reaper from 9. My district partner, the calm and collected Lotem, dead just like that. I caught a glimpse of the District 4 girl, running past me. Nobody moved to kill her, so I let her go.

"Nell!" I pulled my eyes away from the fighting and grabbed a backpack near the entrance, and a slingshot that was nearby. Just as I'd slung the bag over my shoulder, the boy Career from 2 came at me with a knife; luckily, Trestle pulled me out of reach just in time.

"Run, now," he said to me, pulling me along away from the island. I almost stumbled over Mariana, who was bleeding out onto the beach; behind us there was screaming and the horrible sound of tributes being killed, and all around us were tributes fleeing the island with various supplies. The boy from 2 didn't come after us; he got distracted by all the supplies and more available tributes I suppose.

Trestle and I ran through the water, getting soaked in the process. I'm still wet; I miss the current button outside of the Capitol showers that dries you off instantly. Here, I'm going to have to put up with damp pants. I hate damp pants.

"Can you swim?" Trestle called to me.

"No!" Where would I learn to swim in District 11? I mean, come on.

"Then go as fast as you can!" He started paddling, which he picked up somewhere. I don't know; he won't tell me how he learned to swim. I hate shoes, but with all the crunching going on under my feet, I was glad for the boots they put me in. My feet would be cut to ribbons otherwise.

Once we got to shore, we ran, along the beach since it was faster. About ten minutes away from where we landed, we found a pond; the backpack included a water bottle, so we filled it up and kept running away from the Cornucopia, eventually going through the jungle. And that's where we are now, on top of a hill.

"The Weasel's gotten out of more difficult situations than that," Trestle says, sitting down on a moss-covered log.

"Oh yeah? Tell me about something that was more difficult than that," I say.

"Confidential, my dear friend."

"Enough of the confidential stuff. Just tell me something." My hair's damp and keeps falling out of the ponytail into my face. Hugely annoying.

"I'll tell you a story, but you're sworn to secrecy, Nell," Trestle says. Secrecy? That's a laugh; the cameras are probably on us right now.

"Fine."

"There was this time when me and the gang got trapped down an alleyway," Trestle says, leaning back against a tree and looking upwards with a satisfied smile on his face. "The only way out was up, but the wall was too high for just one of us to climb. So we stood on each others' shoulders and I climbed out first; I helped my mate out next, and we hung down and pulled up the next chap, until we had everyone up on that wall. The 'keepers couldn't get us then, and they never will."

"They sort of did," I point out. "You're here."

"That's different, my girl. Don't you think I could have gotten away if I wanted to?"

"I doubt you could have."

"You have so little faith in me. This is just a fine vacation, a story to tell the gang at home. Nothing to get worked up about at all."

"Where are we camping tonight?" I ask, changing the subject. While I'm not squeamish by any means, I wasn't fond of seeing my ally kill Hazel. Eight dead today, including the cannon that came later in the day. Who it was, I don't know. "I know we're staying here, but whereabouts are we sleeping?"

"You give the answer for once," Trestle says, smirking at me.

"Fine." I look around, trying to find a good place. "We'll sleep up in a tree," I say.

"A tree?" Trestle raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, why not? I've slept in trees before." That's the truth; you have to catch a nap where you can sometimes, and high up in a tree in the orchard is as good a place as any. I've never been caught, so it's a perfect place to go.

"You're just trying to break my neck, Eleanor," Trestle says.

"Why would I do that? Quit complaining and let's find a good tree. And don't call me Eleanor," I say, picking up the bag again and starting to walk in a circle.

"Let's find you a tree, then, Nell," Trestle says, stretching and getting up. "Fabian better send down some eatings or it's going to be a lean night tonight."

"Seeder's not going to let us go hungry," I say. We're bound to have loads of sponsors, and now that Lotem's dead she can use all the funds for me. A bit selfish to think that, but it's true.

In a forest there's lots of trees, obviously, but not very many good ones to sleep in. District 11 certainly isn't the best place for forests, but we do have the orchards and the occasional tree in the Roots, so I'm used to dealing with trees. I have never seen any trees like these, though.

"Your tree idea isn't the best you've had," Trestle says, looking up with me for a proper branch.

"There's going to be one, you'll see," I say, then I run towards a tree with a thick trunk and large bark, going all the way up into a canopy of solid branches. "See? Here's one."

"You want to sleep up there?" Trestle looks at me like I'm stupid.

"If you're too scared to, then I guess I'll be sleeping alone," I say. I can't climb very well with boots on, so I take them off and tie the strings together, draping them around my neck. After securing the backpack on my shoulders I begin my climb up. The bark hurts my hands, but gives me a good grip; my toes are happy to be out in the open again, and climbing too.

I scramble to a large branch and straddle it, looking down at my ally below. "Are you coming up or are you going to wait for the others to come?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Trestle says. For all his complaining, he's a quick climber too, like I saw in the Training Center.

"This is just like the net in Training," I say, swinging my legs over open air.

Trestle grins. "Then we can shoot nuts at the others here too."

"See, it's a perfect hideout. They didn't find us last time, did they?"

"I underestimated you," Trestle says, sitting back against the trunk and stretching his legs out along the solid branch below him.

"You shouldn't," I say. The bloodbath is over, we both survived it, and now we're up in a tree away from everyone else. It's perfect. Plus the arena is warm, which reminds me of home.

I start to laugh again. "We should have finished making that hammock; we could have made one up here and been comfortable."

"Stupidest thing I've ever done," Trestle says. "Who wants to make a hammock when you can sleep on hardwood?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm used to sleeping on something soft," I say. Granted, the trundle bed that I share with Rosa at home isn't extremely comfortable, but it's nicer than sleeping on the floor. When I get out of here, I'm going to get myself a bed all for me, and it's going to be even softer than the beds in the Training Center.

"Soft beds are for weak people," Trestle says. "I've never slept on a soft bed in my whole life."

"What about in the apartments?" I ask.

"I slept on the floor; the boys at home would laugh me down the road if they knew I slept in a bed covered in cushions and blankets. No, it's a hard floor for me."

"You're foolish," I say.

"Hey, Nell," Trestle says, eyes closed.

"What?"

"I dare you to hang off the branch."

"Like how?"

"By your hands."

"Challenge accepted." I lean the backpack against the trunk and loop my boots over the branch I'm sitting on. "Better open your eyes or you'll miss it."

As Trestle watches, I swing down off of the branch, until I'm hanging by my fingers over the ground below. It's about twenty feet down or so; if I fell, I'd probably break something. I won't fall; I've never fallen.

"See, it's not hard," I say, kicking my legs up so I'm hanging like the grey creature I saw earlier in the day. I saw a couple, actually, whatever they were. Looping my legs over the tree limb, I hang by my knees and sway gently back and forth; my hair goes up and over my head and I see everything the opposite way it should be.

"We're too visible right here; we need to climb higher," I say, looking at the upside-down ferns below me. Or are they above me right now?

"Get up and we'll go higher then," Trestle says. I sit up and grab the branch, pulling myself back to safety.

"Not too high, or the branches will be too weak to stand on," I say, picking up my boots and the backpack again. Trestle has his knives that he took from the Cornucopia to carry, but he puts them down the sides of his boots.

"Yes, bossy," Trestle says.

"Don't call me bossy; I'm telling you some good ideas here," I say. "Think you can climb it?"

"You of little faith," Trestle says, rolling his eyes. "I've been climbing buildings since I learned to walk."

"And I've been climbing trees since I learned to crawl," I say, flipping my hair back over my shoulder. Even in this heat my clothes feel clammy, from the seawater dunking we took getting over here.

"We're well matched. Let's go up."

Maybe twenty minutes later we've got a new perch, higher up in the tree where the bushy leaves hide us better from the ground. Just in time too; the light's starting to go.

"It's going to get cold tonight," I say, trying to get myself comfortable on a wide branch. I've slept in trees before, but never overnight, and never quite this high up. But hey! I've made it through the first day, almost, and that's a feat. Eight tributes didn't, so I'm feeling quite good about myself.

"Just curl up and bear it, and tomorrow we'll get ourselves a fine fire," Trestle says, shifting around in an attempt to make himself comfortable.

"Fine," I say, grabbing the pack and flipping the top open to get a good look at the supplies we took from the Cornucopia, before the light completely goes.

"What'd we get?" Trestle asks.

"Packet of crackers," I say, holding them up, "Beef jerky, the water bottle, some sunglasses, and… a first aid kit."

"What a wonderful supper," Trestle says sarcastically. "Crackers and beef jerky."

"We'll live," I say, stuffing the supplies back into the pack. "Oh, and the slingshot I grabbed."

"Just wait until someone comes along under us and we'll get them," Trestle says. I'm not fond of the dangerous look in his eyes that's only come about since the bloodbath.

Seeder told me not to trust him, but I can't break off the alliance now. And I don't want to! I don't want to be alone in this rainforest. Plus, I like Trestle; he's fun to be around.

"Shit," Trestle says, looking up. "It's raining." Sure enough, raindrops start to fall around us, making pretty music on the ground below. My jacket was just drying, and now it's soaked again. Tonight is going to be a damp and uncomfortable night.

After we've been thoroughly soaked, the rain stops, leaving the jungle filled with the twilight songs of birds. "I've always liked birds," I say, hugging my wet knees to my chest. "There's lots at home."

"You don't see birds in 6," Trestle says. "'Cept maybe pigeons and startlings."

"We don't have startlings in 11, but we have grooslings and mockingjays. Lots of mockingjays; if you whistle at them while you're working in the orchards, they whistle back to you."

The jungle is becoming dark very quickly; I can't see more than ten feet away from me now, and all color is vanishing, being replaced by blacks and greys. "I'm going to climb up higher so I can see the seal," I say. Trestle doesn't reply, just waves his hand. So I climb up and perch on a narrower branch, where I can see through the leaves.

Once the sky is truly dark, the Capitol seal appears in the sky, accompanied by the anthem. Like the last time I heard the song during the interviews, I hate it. The Capitol's brought me here, and even though it's pretty and I have a friend and all, it's a prison. Either Trestle or me is going to end up not going home, and I don't really know how to feel about that.

The first face in the sky is the Career boy from 1. A Career out on the first day? This is unusual, but news sweet to my ears. The fewer Careers, the better.

The next faces are the pair from 5; there's the girl Trestle killed earlier today. She made no impression on me, and now she's dead. I don't know how to feel about that either. I guess the District 3s made it through the first day; that's rare. They usually die in the bloodbath.

After Hazel, it's Mariana. She had been quiet but nice. Then the pair from District 10; they never have much luck. They usually go out in the bloodbath, and have done that the past few years. Lotem's face goes up in the sky. I didn't know him well either, but he had been from home, and now he's dead too. It's funny how empty and alone seeing him in the sky makes me feel.

The last face is the boy from 12, Fissure, then the Capitol seal is back before fading out, leaving me in darkness. Carefully, I pick my way down the tree, back to where Trestle is waiting for me.

"Who's dead?" he says in a low voice.

I make it back to my usual branch and sit down before answering, "Boy from 1, both from 5, Mariana, both from 10, Lotem, and the boy from 12."

"Not bad," he says. "You take first watch, and wake me up in a few hours. They're not going to send us anything, so I'm going to get me some shuteye while I can."

"Okay," I say. I don't think I'd be able to sleep yet anyway. There's too much that could go wrong in here.

While Trestle sleeps, I stare out into the dark. First day's over; now what? I wonder how my family is doing back at home. I haven't killed anyone, so Auntie can't be upset about that; but when I do have to kill another tribute, how are they going to feel? Does it even matter what they think as long as I get back alive?

Suddenly I want to be back in my home in the Roots, sitting in front of the fireplace while Auntie and Uncle tell stories about the old times right after the Dark Days, and stories from before the Dark Days that have been passed down for generations. Sometimes we sing, and the whole house fills with happiness. I even miss Rosa.

No tears now, Nell! I have to march bravely on, like the rebels in the old stories. They rose up against the Capitol, and… they got killed, didn't they? The rebellion was crushed and that's why I'm here sitting in a tree. They were brave, but things turned out terribly in the end. I really hope that's not what happens to me in my end.

"And remember this," Uncle always says at the end of his rebellion stories, "The rebellion may have failed then, but one day it will be back! And the districts will rise up again, greater and more powerfully than before." Auntie would always swat him when he'd tell those stories, saying that 'Anyone could be listening, and where will those stories get us?"

Rosa and I loved the rebel stories as kids, and sometimes we'd play rebels and Capitol, before we really knew what they meant. Now I wonder if Uncle could be right; maybe the rebellion will happen again, eventually.

Can't think about that now. I need to focus on getting out of here alive. I'm just about to get a drink of water when something catches my eye.

I barely have enough time to say, "Trestle?" before the cat leaps.


	27. Pecuniae

** Terra Coppersmith **

"How much money do we have?"

"Enough to send supper to both of them, but I recommend we save most of it; the next few days will be rough, as you know, Terra," Woof says, staring intently at the screen. Shuttle's under the desk having a nap; her sweater bundled up under her head as a pillow. Woven's leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed.

The lights haven't changed here in the Viewing Hall, so even though it's after dark outside, it still looks like it could be 10 in the morning. Mags is leaning on her desk, head in her hands, but she's not sleeping. Garnet Dusksand, the boy from 1's mentor, threw his phone across the room and stormed out when Cloak got ripped apart by the shark. I couldn't watch that, so I just kept my eyes on Iry the whole time it was happening.

I almost threw up when she had to hide from the Careers, but she's done so well and made it through the first day. Both she and Azlon made it through the first day alive, and now they're miles apart. Iry's on the coast, and Azlon's gone straight up the middle, and is now in the heart of the rainforest.

"She's cold, can't we send her something for that?" I ask, watching my sister shiver underneath her crude shelter in the trees.

"And what about the boy?" Woof asks.

"I don't care about Azlon; I want Iry to win, you know that." It sounds harsh, but it's true. Only one tribute is coming out of the arena, and I don't intend it to be Azlon. So why pretend?

"What's in the bank, Woof?" Woven asks, eyes still shut.

"We're running at 30,000 pecuniae," Woof says, checking the chart.

"That much? Well, Azlon got himself a pack in the bloodbath, so he's got some supplies. Plus he found that water earlier," Woven says, sitting up and blinking at the screen showing Azlon under a tree in a sleeping bag. "He's in a good spot. Send him some bread so he knows we haven't forgotten about him. It doesn't cost much."

"I'm just going to clarify now that we've chosen Iry," Woof says, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen for the first time in hours.

"Of course we've chosen her!" I say, a little too loudly. One of the mentors from 9, Arla, looks over at me, frowning. I don't care; I don't like her anyway.

"Right, just clarifying. I chose her myself several days ago, I wanted to make sure we're all on the same page," Woof says. "Bread for Azlon, is that right?"

"How much is that?" I ask, leaning forward to see the gift screen better.

"90 pecuniae," Woven says. "Today's the cheapest you'll get anything. When we sent you the bread and gloves on Day 5 of your Games, altogether that was over 20,000 pecuniae."

"How'd you afford that?"

"You and Fletcher pulled good sponsors," Woven says. "Iry's going to have a hard time dragging a sleeping bag along with her if we send one to her. I say we give her an extra jacket."

"That's going to roast her in the daytime," Woof says, flipping through the options on the screen. "A blanket could be more useful; like this one, which has plastic on the outside. She could catch water with that, or make a better shelter."

"What's going to make her more comfortable?" I ask.

"Comfort isn't the goal here; it's keeping her alive," Woof says, looking at me. "The blanket's 2000 pecuniae, so it's well within our budget."

"Fine, send the blanket," I say.

"She needs food and water too," Woven points out. "She didn't go to the Cornucopia so she's completely without supplies. How much are those?"

Woof checks, matching prices with the items on the screen. "If we send her a thermos of beef stew, a roll, and a metal bottle of water that can be refilled, that only comes to 3000 pecuniae."

"Let's send that," I say. Woof looks to Woven, and she nods.

"5000 for Iry and 90 for Azlon; that's fair to me."

"Someone's going to have to go out and work the sponsors for more money," Woof says, turning his attention back to the big screen. Nothing's happening that I really care about. The Careers have made camp a good distance from Iry, and Nell and her ally were being attacked by a large cat a few minutes ago. I could hear Seeder groaning several stations away.

"I'll go," Shuttle says from under the table. "I have to go out tomorrow anyway."

"Send off Azlon's first," Woven says. Woof presses the icon for the bread and identifies which tribute he wants to send it to. Just like that, the money is deducted, and on Azlon's screen we watch the silvery parachute descend towards him. He catches it easily and pulls the bread out. It's too dark to see his face, but he seems pleased by his gift.

"Now Iry's," I say. Woof chooses the blanket and the food; the blanket descends first. I can see Iry better than I could see Azlon, and she scrambles to her feet to grab the blanket. Even in the dark I can see her smile. That smile only grows when the second parachute comes down by her. She seems to know I'm watching her, because she gives a little wave to the sky, then pulls her gifts underneath her shelter and I can't see her anymore.

"Feel better, Terra?" Woof asks, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes." Knowing that Iry's okay right now makes me feel so much better. She's alive, and she will come home to me. There's no other choice here.

"Then I'm going to go up to the apartment and get some sleep. I'll come back down in a few hours. Either of you want to join me?"

"I'm fine," Shuttle says, muffled under the table. Woven shakes her head too, as do I.

"We'll stay here," Woven says.

"Suit yourselves. See you in a few hours."

After Woof leaves the room, Woven puts her head down on her arms, leaning against the table. "Are you okay?" I ask.

"Tired."

"Why didn't you go sleep then?"

"You need support, and I'm worried about Iry myself. Better that I stay down here and keep an eye on her and you at the same time."

"I'm not fragile," I say.

"You're a lot more fragile than Shuttle or me," Woven says, turning her head so she can see me. "And this is your first year mentoring, so I should stay here with you anyway."

"Elm's gone up, so I can come over and see how you guys are doing," Corinna says, startling me. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

"A little, but it's fine. How're your tributes?" I ask.

"Both still alive, if you can believe it. They had the sense to get away from the Cornucopia, and now Elowyn's in a good alliance and Kiril's off on his own."

"Both of ours are still alive too," Woven says.

"Good. Where's Shuttle?" Corinna asks.

"Down here." Shuttle sits up and peers out from under the desk.

"Didn't see you down there! Are you okay?"

"Just taking a nap. I think I'm awake now," Shuttle says, climbing out and standing up next to Corinna.

Corinna leans in to see our screens better. "I'm surprised the Careers didn't stick around at the Cornucopia longer, honestly."

"Shore wanted them to get water," I say. I can see some movement from where Iry is; I think she's fluffing out her blanket to get comfortable. I wonder how cold it is there. Oh, I want to reach in and pull her out, to take her home where nobody can hurt her again.

"That turned out well," Corinna says sarcastically. I have a feeling that the shark attack will be one of the highlights of these Games. _Stay away from the water, Iry._

"I'm impressed that they left the boy there and just swam for it," Woven says. "That takes guts to do."

"Eight down and sixteen to go," Shuttle says.

"I should get back; I'm the only one on duty right now. Talk to you later!" Corinna says, then she goes back to her station.

"Terra, you should take a nap," Woven says, looking at me. "You look dead tired."

"I'm not sleeping while Iry's in the arena," I say.

"You'll be dead of sleep exhaustion by the time she gets out. Listen, it's the first night. Eight tributes died this morning, and they can keep rehashing the shark incident until tomorrow. They're not going to unleash anything at least until tomorrow morning, and the cat with the 11 and 6 is keeping the boredom at bay while it's dark. Nothing's going to happen to Iry."

"But-"

"Just take my place under the desk," Shuttle says. "I'll keep watch with Woven for you, and we'll wake you if anything happens."

"You can't be much use to Iry if you're asleep on your feet," Woven says.

"Fine. I'll sleep for a few minutes, but you have to wake me up if anything happens," I say.

"We will. Go get some sleep."

"Okay." I get down from my chair and slide under the desk. The floor is cool, and more comfortable than I thought it would be. Despite my best efforts to stay awake, I slip away into sleep almost immediately.


	28. New Alliance

** Astrid Clearwater **

"Astrid? Your turn to keep watch." Elowyn wakes me up out of a sound sleep with her whispering. The ground I'm lying on is hard and soft at the same time; I'm cold and damp, and my back hurts. All around me is bird song and strange howling noises that come from far off. Where am I right now?

Oh, right. The arena.

"My watch?" I ask, yawning and wincing as I work the stiffness out of my body. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Couple hours by my count. I'm about to nod off, so you take over now."

"Okay." Elowyn lies back down on the damp mossy ground and is asleep almost instantly; I can tell by her breathing. The sun is starting to rise somewhere above us; light is coming down in tiny rays through the thick foliage. Nobody disturbed us last night, which was good. No cannons, which means the audience will be getting restless this morning.

I hope Mama and Axel got some sleep last night. District 3 seems a lifetime away right now. Do I miss it? Not sure really. Do I want to get out of here? Yes.

Elowyn curls up tighter in her sleep; her hair is coming out of her once neatly done braids. To win I'm going to have to kill her. I could do it now, if I had the nerve and a weapon. I don't have either.

I wish we had gotten some supplies yesterday; a weapon or a backpack or something. Anything to make our lives easier while we're in here. I also wish Beetee would send me something, but I guess it's too early for gifts yet. Or he's chosen Circuit, who's still alive somewhere in here. Beetee better have chosen me to be his victor.

The light comes down through the treetops onto the ground stronger and stronger, until the whole forest around me is bathed in a queer twilight. It's pretty, but it also makes me nervous. Day 2 has really begun now, and I'm not sure what to expect. Anything could be out there, just waiting to kill us. I don't want to die, period, but especially not on Day 2.

I let Elowyn sleep awhile longer, since she let me sleep for hours, but my tongue is getting drier by the minute in this quickly heating up rainforest. We need water, and food too. My stomach rumbles; it's not used to being hungry anymore, after the Capitol fare I've been eating for the past week. No food or very little food is normal for District 3, but I've become soft.

"Elowyn," I say quietly, then louder. "Elowyn, wake up. We've got to go."

Elowyn sits up instantly, looking as confused as I felt when I first woke this morning. "Danger?" she whispers, looking around frantically.

"No, there's no danger, calm down."

"Then why do we need to go?" she says, leaning against a close by tree.

"Water. We need water and food."

She runs her hands over her head, trying to smooth down the worst of her messy hair. It doesn't really work, but I don't tell her that. My hair must be just as bad. "Corinna and Elm promised they'd send some things," she says.

"They're working with Beetee, so maybe they can pool their cash later. Did they say you had sponsors?" Of course she has sponsors; the Capitol people were probably falling over themselves to sponsor her. Meanwhile, Beetee only told me I have a sponsor. Who knows how many I have, or how much money they're willing to spend on a redheaded District 3 girl?

"Elm was bragging all last week about the number of sponsors that we had. We should get something later, don't you think?" Elowyn brushes moss and dirt off her pants and stands up. Even though she looks a mess from sleeping on a cold jungle floor all night, she still looks beautiful. And that's a talent in here, I tell you.

"We should. But for right now, we need water," I say, standing up next to her. "Keep on going the same way we were?"

"Sounds good." Just before we start to move out, I stop Elowyn, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.

"What?" she says, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper.

"Thought I heard something." A rustling noise is coming from about ten feet away or so. Elowyn and I duck back down and retreat into the bushes behind us, to wait whatever it is out. I'm scared now; it could be an armed tribute, a mutt, or just nothing at all. Anything's possible in the arena. Neither of us moves, but we're both tensed to run if need be. But after a few minutes of waiting, nothing appears.

"Maybe I just imagined it," I whisper to Elowyn.

"Or it was a bird," she murmurs back. I nod and we stand back up, ready to begin our journey again. I can't shake the feeling that somebody's watching us, though. I keep hearing something move behind us, and it's making the hairs on the back of my neck rise up. I really hope it's just a bird.

Neither of us says much as we walk along; the terrain keeps us going higher and higher, which is both good and bad. Good because we'll be able to see any tribute from up here, and bad because water flows downhill. What goes up has to go down eventually, though, and we're bound to reach the peak anytime now. Then we can go down the other side and find water.

"Look!" Elowyn says as we come to what I think is the top of the hill, grabbing my arm and pointing. I immediately think she's pointing at a tribute or something like that, and I tense to run again, but she's actually pointing at a small pond. "Water!"

Forgetting to be quiet, we plunge across the now level ground and arrive at a surprisingly clear pond at the other edge of the hill. "Welcome to the mountain peak," I say, kneeling down to take a drink.

"Do you think it's safe?" Elowyn asks doubtfully. "My mother always says to purify water you find in the woods."

"We don't have much choice, do we? There's nothing to purify it with," I say, dipping my hands into the water. It's still cool from the night air. Little bugs swim away from my hands, but I don't care. I just drink one cupped hand full, then another and another. After a second or so of hesitation, Elowyn joins in. What choice do we have?

"If it's poison, it's slow acting poison," I joke, drinking another handful. The water's cool, with an earthy taste that's not completely horrible. Just slightly.

"You found water." I tip forward and just barely stop myself from falling into the pond when the girl speaks behind us. I turn to see who it is; standing on the other edge of the hill, holding onto a tree with one hand, is Tilling, the weak and unwanted tribute from 9. Who tried to ally with everyone, but was turned down by the same number. What's she doing here?

"We did," Elowyn says, standing up to face Tilling. I shake my hands free of water, then stand next to my ally. I pull up to my full height and try to look intimidating; I'm not really sure if it's working. Tilling would look scared no matter what I did.

"Were you following us?" I ask. Now the rustling bushes are starting to make sense. How long was she watching us for? A little shiver goes up and down my spine at the thought of being watched.

"Maybe a little," Tilling says, looking slightly ashamed. "I didn't know what else to do."

"Get lost?" Elowyn suggests.

"Can't I join you?" Tilling steps closer, a desperate tone to her voice. "Please? I don't want to be on my own out here. I can be a good ally."

"Nobody wanted you as an ally in Training," I point out.

"Please? I'll be helpful and good, and I'll do everything you say." Tilling steps a little closer. Elowyn reaches down and picks up a nearby fallen branch.

"We already have an alliance; we don't need anyone else," Elowyn says, holding the branch up so it's clearly a weapon. Tilling starts to cry; two perfect tears running down her face.

"I didn't think you'd want me; nobody else did either. I'll go, but can I please get some water before I leave?" she asks. I look at Elowyn and nod. What's the harm in that?

"Fine. Then you go away," Elowyn says. Tilling almost trips over a root as she runs to the edge of the pond, dropping down and scooping handfuls of water up to her mouth. Elowyn and I walk backwards to the edge of the hill and sit down on a log, keeping an eye on the girl.

"What do you think about her?" she whispers to me.

"Harmless. We could have her if you wanted." Tilling wouldn't be my first choice for an ally anywhere, but I have a feeling that she's going to follow us around no matter what, unless we kill her. And I'm not ready for that yet.

"I don't really," Elowyn says. Tilling's kneeling at the edge of the pond, still drinking water and oblivious to our conversation.

"She's going to follow us, even if we make her leave, you know," I say. Elowyn sighs.

"What do we do with her then?" She runs her hand down the length of the stick, and I know what she's thinking. I'm not ready to kill Tilling, though.

"If we ally with her, then we'll get more sponsorship money. Then we can get rid of her later. She's not going to be a threat to us, I can tell you that." Perhaps it's callous to use Tilling like that, but this is the Hunger Games. It's either use or get used; I intend to go home, so I'm going to have to think my way out of this arena. Thus, more money they can spend on me, the better.

As Tilling stands up, wiping her mouth, Elowyn whispers in my ear, "Fine. We'll keep her. For now."

"Tilling?" I say; her head perks up and I see the glint of hope in her eyes, though she's clearly still wary of Elowyn's branch.

"Yes?"

"You can stay with us for now," I say, and she lights up like nobody I've ever seen before. She looks like I just crowned her victor right here and now.

"Really?"

"Allies," Elowyn says, reaching out her hand. Tilling breaks out into an even bigger smile, if that's possible, and runs to grab Elowyn's hand.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

"We need food, so let's keep it down," I say. Almost on cue, a parachute descends from the treetops; we watch it drift down and settle quietly between us on the ground. "Well that's convenient."

"Let's open it!" Tilling says, bending down to stroke the silvery parachute. Elowyn pulls the parachute away to reveal a woven basket full of bread and fruit and still warm cubes of roasted meat. Beautiful, beautiful Capitol food.

"Welcome to the alliance," I say, taking a piece of meat out of the basket. It's perfectly cooked; it might be the best thing I've ever eaten. Elowyn takes a piece too, then Tilling.

"Welcome to the alliance indeed," Elowyn says, smiling at me.

I wonder how long this new alliance will last.


	29. Horizon

** Shore Seawind **

"We've got water and we've got food, so what's the next step, Ocean Boy?" Aggie asks in a sarcastic tone. We found a waterfall late last night, so now our water bottles are filled, and our generous sponsors made a midnight feast on the beach a possibility.

"Now we go and find ourselves some tributes," I say, looking at my alliance. Now that Cloak is dead, ripped apart by the shark that he should have come onto land to avoid, I'm the undisputed leader of this alliance.

"Sounds like an excellent plan to me," Dominicus says, running his thumb across the blade of his knife, testing its sharpness. I can guarantee that if it's Capitol made, it's sharp. "Which way are we going?"

"Keep along the coastline," I say, trying to map out the arena in my head. "There's bound to be some tributes on the beaches, and if there's not, then we go into the trees. Start with the beaches first, though."

Aggie seems to resent me being the leader more than the others; she's the one I'm going to have to keep an eye on. Dominicus as well, to a point, and Tiara's not on the top of my highest threat list currently. And as for Kelpie- it's all I can do to keep Aggie from murdering her right here and now.

"Get everything back in the packs then," I say, picking up my own pack and slinging it over my shoulder with one hand, grabbing my trident with the other. I can feel Da's pride at me having become the leader. He always called me a leader when I was younger, and now I'm fulfilling his expectations. It feels good.

How Ma and the girls and Thalassa feel about me being the leader of the elite murderers, I don't know; I'll deal with that when I get out of here.

"Kelpie, come on, put your stuff in your pack," I say, nudging her with my toe. She's been completely out of it since last night; I think Cloak's death really drove her over the edge. For what feels like the thousandth time, I curse Aria Combstar for not volunteering.

Aggie shoots Kelpie a look of pure loathing. "She's practically dead now; let me finish the job."

"If you do that, then we're running at an ally a day, Aggie. Let's not and say we did," I say, stepping in front of Kelpie. I hope Mags is happy, because Aggie certainly is not.

"She's worse than no ally, but go off. I'll deal with her at some point," Aggie says, slinging her own pack over her shoulder. "We're leaving, so get up!"

Kelpie stands up, with a glassy eyed expression on her face. Whatever strength she managed to pull together in the Capitol is clearly gone; she's dead weight and it would probably be better to kill her now. I'm actually in agreement with Aggie on that one. But two things hold me back: Mags, and I don't want to face the wrath of the Agans at home. Killing your own district partner is taboo in any district, I think.

"So, we're going this way?" Tiara says, pointing along the coastline to her right with her sword.

"That's the way," I say.

"Lead the way then, Ocean Boy," Aggie says, shooting another loathing look at Kelpie before falling into line behind me.

I'm hoping we find another water source somewhere along here, because the waterfall is the only one I've seen so far into the Games. Our water bottles are full right now, but with five people drinking in this heat, they'll be empty by mid-afternoon. There's something about this place that makes the air feel heavy and moist, but sucks the water out of you at the same time.

"Who are we looking for anyway?" Tiara asks, walking faster to catch up to me.

"I don't care. Any tribute will do. There's five of us and likely only one of them, so we'll outnumber whoever we find."

"I hope it's the District 3 girl; the one who kept watching us throughout Training," Aggie says behind me.

"We know; you've said it a hundred times," Tiara says.

"Don't have to be rude about it," Aggie says, grumbling then falling silent. Speaking of silent; Kelpie hasn't said a word all day. The others are ignoring her for now, but she's trailing along behind us at a distance, and I'm not sure what the worse outcome would be for her: get killed by one of us, or be left behind to get killed by something else in the jungle. She'd better keep up.

"Can we stop; I'm dying," Tiara says, slowing down and pulling her back pack off.

"I can kill you quicker if you're dying," Aggie says cheerfully.

"Save that for the others," I say. "Drink some water, but ration it. Don't know when we'll get more."

"Who made you the leader, Ocean Boy?" Dominicus says, drinking from his own water bottle.

I smile. "The shark."

"Very clever," Aggie says, smiling a mirthless smile. "We've seen nobody yet; when do we start our hike through the woods?"

"Once the island starts to curve around. Then we go through."

"It's always curving. We've been walking on a curve the whole time," Tiara says.

"It's an island; there's going to be an end to it, and then we'll turn and go into the forest. Of course it's going to curve," I say.

"Whatever; I just want to kill somebody," Aggie says, capping her water bottle and throwing it back into her pack. "Let's keep going."

The sun is hot overhead, and periodically we stop to put more sunblock on each other and drink water. I love seeing the ocean on my left; it's a constant reminder of home, and it makes me feel happy. Even while I'm consciously hunting down another kid to kill. Anything to get home.

"Help Kelpie with her sunblock," I say to Tiara. She rolls her eyes.

"If she wants it, she can put it on herself."

"Tiara, please?"

Tiara huffs, but she does haphazardly slather sunblock on Kelpie's face. My district partner just stares ahead. She's gone, far gone.

"Are we going or what?" Aggie says impatiently. I'm about to start off again, when I see movement in the trees. Brown jacket moving. Tribute.

"We've got some action," I say, pointing the figure out.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Tiara says, stuffing the sunblock in her backpack and grabbing her sword in her right hand. I don't wait to see if Kelpie's following along before we leap from the beach into the forest and take off after the tribute, whoever it is.

They're quick, and I can't see who it is at a distance. Aggie's practically vaulting over logs, Dominicus fast on her heels. Once or twice I see the tribute look back at us, but keep running. We're faster, though.

"Give me a knife," Aggie says to Dominicus, holding out her hand as she straddles a fallen log.

"You don't want to have fun with them?" Dominicus asks, pulling a blade out and handing it to her.

"Oh, I will. I just want to slow them down." Aggie leaps off the log and starts running even faster than she was before. I watch her aim, and throw the knife; it hits the tribute's leg and they go down hard.

Aggie crow laughs and skips over to where the tribute is lying. Dominicus, Tiara, and I join her in a minute, and stand above the tribute, who's moaning on the rainforest floor. It's the skinny bookworm from District 7, the boy who asked if he could bring a book into the arena. There's no book in sight, so I guess that got rejected.

"Why hello, _Kiril_ ," Aggie says, crouching down beside him. "You're not looking too good, are you?"

"Please," he says, feeling for the knife that's still embedded in his leg.

"Oh, you want that out? Okay." Aggie yanks the blade out and Kiril screams; the echo bouncing off the trees.

"So, who wants him?" Tiara asks, looking down at the writhing boy. He's younger than I am, and I feel some pity for him. I can't save him, but I pity him.

"I don't care," I say, leaning on my trident. "I already got two kills. Who hasn't gotten any yet?"

"Dominicus," Tiara says immediately. "I took out the boy from 10, and Aggie got the girl. Dominicus hasn't gotten a kill yet."

"Fine, you take him," Aggie says reluctantly, wiping the blood from the knife onto Kiril's pants. He's still moaning and crying a little; not the best sight. I doubt the Capitol wants this to go on for ages; it's not good sport when the victim's this weak.

"Right, Dominicus, do it fast," I say.

"Why fast?"

"Because he's a kid."

"If he's old enough to get reaped, he's old enough to die," Dominicus says. There's something dangerous in his eyes that lets me know I shouldn't trust him as far as I can throw him.

"Obviously, but don't make this one drawn out. Kill him quick and let's keep going."

"Quit arguing and just stick him, or I'll do it," Tiara says. Dominicus and I keep looking at each other until he gives.

"Fine." Kiril, knowing his end is near, tries to crawl away backwards, but Aggie puts a boot on his injured leg, making him scream again. I don't watch as Dominicus slits his throat, but I hear the cannon fire, and that's good enough for me.

"What's wrong, Ocean Boy?" Aggie asks in a sing song voice. "Not a fan of blood? Maybe a little squeamish?"

"I've had enough of it for now. After Cloak," I say. Aggie's face pales a little at the reminder of the gruesome death our ally suffered.

"Fine. Let's get out of here before the body starts to smell," she says, stomping away towards the beach again.

"Where's Kelpie?" I ask, realizing that we're missing an ally.

"Who cares?" Tiara says. "If she's gone, then I don't have to deal with her anymore."

"I'm not leaving anyone behind. We're going back to look for her," I say, following Aggie out of the jungle.

"You and that girl! Just let her go!" Tiara moans, coming along behind me.

"No!" I say, rounding on her. "I don't leave anyone behind until the cannon fires, do you understand me? Kelpie is part of this alliance, and until she's dead, she comes along with us."

"I don't get why you're so attached to the girl," Aggie says from up ahead. "Just kill her and be done with it."

"She's my district partner. Would you kill Dominicus?"

"Yes," she says without hesitation. "No offense, Dommie."

"No offense taken; I'd kill you too," Dominicus says, smiling.

"I'm not killing Kelpie, not yet. So let's go back and find her." My tone must sound final, because they don't complain anymore as we make our way out of the jungle and back to the beach.

It's fairly easy to find Kelpie; after retracing our journey along the beach, I see her standing at the edge of the water, just looking out at the horizon.

"Kelpie, Kelpie we need to go now. Come on with us," I say, grabbing her hand. The others stand a distance away, talking amongst themselves. "Come with me, Kelpie."

"I want to go home," she says suddenly, the first words I've heard her spoken all day. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"Okay, so come with us and we'll try to get you home, okay?" She's not going home; she's never going to go home, but I have to at least try to humor her. What else can I do?

"Home's that way," Kelpie says, pointing out at the horizon. She could be right for all I know, but more likely it's a simulation. The horizon isn't real.

"No, Kelpie. Come on, we have to go."

"What's going on with your girlfriend?" Aggie yells at us. "Is she coming or not?"

I grab Kelpie's hand and try to pull her along, but she's surprisingly strong and stays firm.

"Let me go, Shore. I'm going home." She's not the same Kelpie I was in Training with, and she's not the same Kelpie Agan from at home. That girl's gone and has been replaced with a shell of her former self. Kelpie Agan is gone. I let her hand go and it drops to her side.

"Where are you going, 4?" Aggie says, coming to stand next to me. "What's with her?"

"I don't know," I admit. Before I can stop her, Kelpie walks forward into the surf, each step taking her deeper and deeper into the water. I start to go after her, but Aggie holds my arm back.

"Let her go, Shore," she says, sounding surprisingly gentle. Kelpie takes step after determined step forward, until the water comes to her chest and she begins to swim. And all we can do is watch as Kelpie Agan swims out as far as she can, then disappears beneath the waves.

The cannon fires a few minutes later.


End file.
